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NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 










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NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE; 

OR, 

ji3an’s Rummer totti^ tlje BSops. 



MYRA SAWYER HAMLIN. 



ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
1896. 



Copyright, 1896, 

By Myra Sawyer Hamlin. 



/Z' 


5Entbers{ts ^Prcss: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 


TO 

MY DAUGHTER LOUISE, 

AND HER FRIENDS, 

RUTH AND CLARE, 

WHOSE ENCOURAGEMENT HAS HELPED ME TO WRITE 
THIS LITTLE STORY FOR OTHER 
GIRLS AND BOYS. 


\ 


t 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. Is THIS Lord Ullin’s Daughter? . 7 

II. Some Necessary Explanations. — A 

Song and a Sermon 23 

III. The Lady of the Lake 40 

IV. Some of the Boys 48 

V. A Rainy Day 64 

VI. Sydney’s Punishment 87 

VII. President Poss 93 

VIII. The Argonauts 117 

IX. The Regatta 132 

X. Nan’s Future 166 

XI. Nan’s Birthday 178 

XII. The Pilgrimage 200 

XIII. Bishop’s Day 237 






NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE, 


CHAPTER I. 

IS THIS LORD ULLIN’s DAUGHTER? 
[TICK, Robbie, get up and dress ! 



Herbert has a high fever and is 
out of his head ! We have to go for the 
doctor as fast as we can.” 

Go for the doctor ? You ! Me ! Nan ! ” 
Boys always, and girls often, say me for I 
on occasions of excitement despite the best 
of drill in Bindley Murray, and Robbie was 
too nearly asleep to be conscious of gram- 
mar or the fact that his fifteen-year-old 
sister stood, dressed in sailor suit, reefer and 
cap, holding a lantern before his camp-cot. 
The lantern she swung impatiently to and 


8 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


fro while she tapped her foot impatiently to 
emphasize her command. 

Robbie, you must get up at once. 
There is no one else to go with me to the 
village ! ’’ 

Go for the doctor ? Why, it *s pitch 
dark. Hear the wind too. Why, we can’t. 
Call the fellows over at the island. I am 
afraid to go on the lake at this time of 
night.” 

Call the boys at the island ? ” Nan 
scornfully rejected the suggestion. Yes, 
and how much time we would lose in 
getting them started. Here I am, helping 
you as fast as I can, and how long you 
have been about it ! Call them indeed ! 
They would turn over and go to sleep ; and 
there is Herbert, his foot all green, his head 
clean crazy, Mamma afraid of blood-poison- 
ing, and Marian crying her eyes out.” 

Nan herself was very ready for the 
emergency, with erect, proud figure, cour- 





Quick Robbie 


, GET UP AND DRESS ! ’’ 






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NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


9 


ageous, determined mouth, a head set like 
Diana’s on a pair of shoulders broad enough 
to bear the weight of all the burdens of her 
sex. There was so little weakness about 
the face, that one might easily believe it 
but a trick of the lantern to discover traces 
of tears on the dark lashes that shaded the 
deep-set blue eyes. 

Nan had, however, been crying, for a girl 
of fifteen is only a child, even though she 
have no fear of a dark night that wrapped 
the water thoroughfare in fantastic shadows. 
She had not been crying from any fear of 
danger to herself in the journey before her, 
but from that nameless terror which comes 
to the strong in face of physical suffering. 
She would rather, far rather brave the 
unknown dangers of the elements outside, 
than stay within and listen to the cries of 
the poor sick man whom her mother and 
sister watched. But that weakness she 
could not expose to Robert, this young 


10 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


brother of twelve, and so the poor boy had 
to endure the somewhat brusque impatience 
that was often Nan’s safety-valve for 
emotion. 

^^Oh! Robbie, can’t you hurry a little? 
Never mind your necktie, button up your 
reefer. Suppose that Herbert should die 
before we could get to Chicopee and bring 
the doctor back ? Sister Marian would be a 
widow ! ” 

‘^Now, how could she be a widow when 
she isn’t married yet, and won’t be for a 
month ? Who is crazy now ? ” the boy said, 
exulting in scoring a point against his level- 
headed sister, before whom he now stood 
fully equipped (though minus such super- 
fluities as necktie and hair-brushing) for any 
undertaking whither this same sister might 
lead. 

Nan had no time to rebuff this sinister 
reflection on her own mental soundness, for 
their mother, pale and heavy-eyed from 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 11 

watching, came in to kiss them both and 
say : — 

‘‘Mj brave children, you know I would 
not let you go, if I did not fear the worst, 
but Herbert is certainly very ill. Harold 
is in charge of the camp in your father’s 
unfortunate absence. But even now Nannie, 
would it not be better to call some one from 
the camp island? — for the lake looks so 
rough, the wind is high. You would not 
lose more than half an hour.” 

^^Yes, but half an hour might lose us 
Herbert. No mother dear, I am equal to it. 
Can’t you trust me? My little ^ Worry’ 
will carry us safely over. Why 1 have 
handled her in much worse weather than 
this by day. Am I afraid of the dark ? 
Robbie wdll hold the lantern, and you can 
see its rays till we get across. Trust me, 
little mother.” 

Nan put her arms protectingly around her 
mother, for she was half a head taller, and 


12 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


kissed her tenderly, then ran impetuously 
out into the night, swinging her lantern to 
light her to the waterside, where her little 
boat was moored by a twenty-foot rope, 
which she pulled deftly in, saying, — 

Here, Robbie, hold the lantern higher, 
so that I can untie the boat.” As they 
pushed off from the shore, she sent an all ’s 
well ” back to the little mother in the door- 
way, and the words from a well-beloved 
ballad flew into Nan’s brain. 

‘^The water wraith was shrieking, 

And in the scowl of Heaven each face 
Grew dark as they were speaking.’’ 


She checked them before they reached 
her lips, seeing that her young brother 
looked pale with fright, and the lake, their 
dear friend on happy summer days, was 
now dark and dense with a thousand mid- 
night foes. The distance, scarce a mile, 
seemed to stretch into limitless torture for 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


13 


the imaginative boy, and even when with 
strong, untiring exertion the sister had 
nearly compassed the distance, the shore 
loomed darker and blacker still. Innocent 
shadbush and sumach nodding to their own 
shadows cast by the lantern, took forms of 
threatening or beckoning brigands to poor 
Eobbie, and the grating of their own boat 
on the pebbly beach, the grinding of vic- 
tims’ bones, which threw the boy into a 
chattering chill. 

But Nan, with her practical, healthy 
touch, brought him back to reality by 
sounding the great ferry bell that hung 
over their heads. When its clangor broke 
the silence Nan gave voice to her favorite 
ballad : — 

chieftain to the Highlands hound 
Cries, ^ Boatman, do not tarry, 

And I ’ll give thee a silver pound 
To row us o’er the ferry.’ ” 

Poor Jerry will look far for his pound 


14 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


to-niglit, I fear. If he knew only enough 
to say : — 

^Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle 
This dark and stormy water ? ’ 

‘ Oh ! I the chief of Ulva’s isle, 

And this Lord Ullin’s daughter.’ ” 

But no, he will come muttering about 
the hardheartedness of people in getting an 
old man out of bed at midnight. Here he 
comes now. I can hear him interfere just 
exactly like his old horse.’’ 

True to Nan’s prediction, the old ferry- 
man came shambling down the hill, mutter- 
ing to himself : — 

Howly Saints, me old bones ! What 
misery ! Bringing an old fellow out of his 
bed sich o' night. Christopher ! An it ’s 
ye young ones from the Island ! What ill 
luck ’s sent ye out this night ? ” 

Oh, Jerry,” said Nan, running to meet 
him, we have to get the doctor for Mr. 
Morton.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


15 


The feller what shot hisself up yonder 
by the birch woods ? Somehow these city 
chaps don’t know when they’s well off. 
Ain’t got no call to shoot game. Plenty to 
eat without fooling along with guns. Has 
to lay ’em down loaded on rocks, and let 
’em go off ’thout no game in sight. Tom- 
foolery and goin’ agin Providence. So he 
is sick, is he ? Your pa off down to Boston 
too ? Now whar was them boys to the 
camp? Couldn’t none o’ ’em turned out, 
sted o’ sending of a gal and boy like you 
out this time o’ night ? ’T ain’t nothing less 
than scantZeZlous ! ” 

During this harangue of Jerry’s, uttered 
in the tone of a soliloquy more than an 
address, the two w^ere making rapid strides 
up the hill to the little black house, which 
had never known a paint brush, where 
Jerry lived by himself, not counting the 
companionship of an ancient cat, dog and 
horse. 


16 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Nan considered it wise to ignore Jerry’s 
tirade and to carry her own point more 
briefly. 

“Jerry, I must leave Robbie with you, 
and ride old Dan as fast as he ’ll go to Dr. 
Smith’s.” 

“ Well, you be a plucky one. I ’m think- 
ing old Dan won’t run away with you,” 
he chuckled as he led Nan into the shed 
where the old horse’s spare ribs rose alarm- 
ingly through the holes in his well-worn 
blanket. 

The girl herself led him out, leaped on 
his bareback, doubled the halter, and was 
off, after seizing the lantern from Robbie, 
and left them both speechless in the . 
door-yard. 

They could hear Nan’s cheering words to 
old Dan, which seemed to speed him beyond 
his wont, for but a few seconds and she 
was out of hearing and lost in the narrow 
winding of the country roads. The houses 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


17 


were few and far between, and no candle or 
lamplight shone from any. 

Nan felt that Dan knew the way, though 
the poor beast was fairly bewildered by the 
shapes that her lantern threw across his 
path. But the way seemed long, though 
they made the three miles in twenty min- 
utes, and Nan stood at the doctor’s door as 
the clock struck one. 

A country doctor, living in a peaceful 
village, far from tavern brawls and electric 
cars is not subject to many midnight calls, 
and the good man was as amazed to see 
Nan sitting on old Dan, as Jerry had been 
to see her at the ferry-slip. 

Why, Anna, my child, what is the 
trouble ? Ts the mother ill ? Something 
very serious ? ” 

Herbert — Mr. Morton, you know — 
who hurt his foot, is delirious. Mother is 
very anxious ; I came as quickly as I could. 
Please, Doctor, will you come right away ? ” 
2 


18 


NAN AT CAMP CniCOPEE. 


Yes, my cliild. I’ll not keep you wait- 
ing; my boy will harness my horse, and 
you would best take a seat in the chaise and 
let Jimmie lead Jerry’s horse down. You 
took quite tired out, and no wonder. Here, 
mother.” 

He lifted Nan off the horse and led her 
into the house, as his wife, who had been 
aroused by the sound of a girl’s voice, ap- 
peared in dressing-gown at the door. 

I ’ll get the child a glass of milk. She 
looks quite spent.” 

Nan had felt brave enough until the doc- 
tor’s wife began to pet her, when the child- 
heart gave way and she burst into tears. 
The milk restored her calmness, however, 
and she was somewhat amused by the gar- 
rulous curiosity of the kind-hearted woman. 

‘^Poor young man! He was to have 
been married so soon, too. I suppose your 
sister has her things most done. ’T would 
be real sad to have to put off the wedding. 


NAN AT CAMP CniCOPEE. 19 

It ’s SO unlucky. But maybe ’t will be all 
right in a couple of weeks. Tell your sister 
I ’ve known far worse wounds in war-times 
heal up in no time, and the men off to the 
front to be shot again or maybe killed. 
She ain’t having her wedding things made 
in the village ? There ’s the doctor now. 
Can’t wait a minute, always in an awfful 
hurry. My dear, you ’ve no idea what it is 
to be a doctor’s wdfe.” 

The roads Nan had just travelled seemed 
more friendly as she drove back over them 
in the protecting companionship of the 
kind though silent doctor, and Nan felt 
almost happy as they drove into the door- 
yard of the ferry-house. 

Poor little Bobbie had fallen asleep on a 
hard chair in the room which served Jerry 
for kitchen, dining and living room, while 
the old man, on an equally hard chair, was 
nodding, with one ear open ” for the sound 
of the doctor’s wagon. 


20 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Here, Jerry, put iny horse into your 
shed, and James will be down with old 
Dan soon. This young lady rode him such 
a pace, I thought it best to have him 
rubbed down and rested awhile,’' said the 
doctor as he sprang out of his chaise with 
that limp of one knee that seems peculiar 
to country doctors 

She 's a plucky one,” said old Jerry, 
whose admiration for this slip of a girl, who 
could row and ride as well by night as by 
day, made him overlook the possible danger 
to his faithful but broken beast. 

When the lantern threw its light a second 
time across the lake, it brought in sight a 
small boat rowed by two young men, while 
a third sat in the stern. 

Ho there, doctor, is that you ? Are the 
children all right ? ” 

All right, of course, with such a pilot as 
Miss Nan.” 

Halloa, boys,” cried Robbie, glad to 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


21 


have the tension relieved by the friendly 
camp voices. But Nan exclaimed, — 

Oh, is Herbert worse V as the three 
young fellows in red flannel shirts and 
corduroys sprang ashore. The senior of 
the three, her cousin Harold, seized Nan by 
the hands as he answered : — 

No, no worse ! But Nan, why did n’t 
you call us ? It was very foolish, though 
brave. The ferry-bell aroused us and we 
pulled over to the cabin to find your mother 
almost as anxious about you as Morton. 
You will be the heroine of the lake, Nan. 
Won’t the boys cheer, though, to-morrow ?’^ 
Ob, don’t let them know. Cousin Hal. 
It was nothing ; I was n’t afraid, and there 
was no time to lose.” 

^^Not let them ’know? Why, Nan, they 
will be so proud of you. You would n’t 
deprive them of that ? ” 

Harold had taken the oars of Nan’s boat, 
and the other boys were rowing back to 


22 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


the camp, while with Harold’s strong prac- 
tised stroke, the little Worry ” soon brought 
the doctor to the little cabin where Mrs. 
Ratcliffe and her daughter were anxiously 
watching. 

The doctor looked serious when he en- 
tered the sick room, but he placed one quiet 
hand on Marian’s as he took Morton’s in 
the other, and said kindly : — 

We ’ll bring him round all right, my 
dear.” 

But it was many hours before the fever 
was abated, for Nan had called the doctor 
none too soon, and there was no sleep for 
any of them till day had dawned. When 
the sun broke gloriously on the lake. Nan 
was glad to forget the terrors of the night, 
and Marian came in to kiss her and say : — 
Herbert is out of danger. If it had n’t 
been for you, we should have lost him. 
Thank you, Nannie dear ; now sleep well. 
God bless you.” 


CHAPTER II. 


SOME NECESSAKY EXPLANATIONS. — A SONG 
AND A SEKMON. 

N an could just remember that winter 
day when her father came home from 
his office, dejected and discouraged, and 
after a long talk with their mother had 
told them that they were to give up the 
city home and go to the country to live. 
It was only in later years that she had 
fully understood that the change was one 
of life and death to her father, that it was 
the physician’s verdict that he must leave 
business cares and the city behind him, 
and find a home and occupation in the 
country. 

She remembered hearing her mother say, 
^‘We have Aunt x\nne’s house at Chicopee, 


24 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


which was your grandfather’s. It is yours, 
and everything in it, old yarbs and pop- 
corn, everything that has been in it for a 
century. We can go up there.” 

And so, cheerfully, as only mothers can, 
the dear mother had broken up the city 
home where Nan and Robbie had been 
born, and Marian lived most of her life. 
It was a very narrow, small, city home, in 
an unfashionable street, but Nan could still 
recall the heart-broken sobs with which she 
had taken leave of the little backyard, and 
the few little sidewalk mates wdth whom 
she had skipped rope and played tag. 

Marian, from her height of fifteen years, 
had duly impressed upon Nan that they 
were turning their backs upon civilization, 
and going to a vast uncultivated desert, 
where the lost benefits of city life had no 
compensating balance. 

Marian was of that age where even the 
narrow life of a small city house, touching as 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


25 


it did by the very faintest, slenderest cord, 
the pulsating life of the really great world, 
seemed to hold advantages to which the 
simple country existence bore no comparison. 
She was really the only unhappy one. She 
had always had many friends through her 
school life, for she was one of those prac- 
tical, everyday girls who make no demands 
upon the ideal in their friends, taking 
them at their surface value, showing a 
proper and real interest in their clothes and 
their little quarrels, confiding the vital facts 
of her own wardrobe with generous impulse, 
and keeping up a healthy, commonplace 
intercourse with a host of commonplace 
girls. Even now Nan could recall the troop 
of girls who attended Marian home from 
school every day of the last month in B. 
Every day there was a different set, and 
then there were the Sunday-school and 
dancing-school intimates, and toward the 
last there were many tears shed, gifts ex- 


26 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


changed, promises of eternal friendship and 
endless kissing. 

But to the younger children the novelty 
more than outweighed the regrets of the 
change, and six weeks after they had set 
up their household gods in Chicopee, 
nothing could have persuaded Bobbie or 
Nan to return to the confines of the city 
home. 

Nothing in their short lives had ever been 
so absorbing to Nan and Bobbie as the con- 
struction of the henhouses and the stocking 
of the chicken farm, which was to give Mr. 
Batclifie his needed occupation, and be in 
time a source of revenue. 

The many adjuncts of modern improve- 
ment, incubators and brooding houses were 
of never ending interest, and they never 
wanted for friends from the day when an 
imposing array of boxes was set down by an 
expressman from the nearest railroad station. 
Mrs. Brahma, Mr. Plymouth Bock, Little 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 27 

Cochin China, and their broods were their 
cherished playmates, and nights and days 
were spent in counting their chickens before 
they were hatched. 

It was when Nan was ten years old that 
an important change in the household 
marked a still greater era in her life than 
even the leaving the city home. Three 
boys came to spend the summer at the 
old homestead. They were sons of some 
old city friends of Mr. Ratcliffe, and they 
had been sent to Chicopee to share with 
Nan and Robbie the pleasures of a country 
life. These boys were so happy that the 
next year three more boys applied for 
admission to the mansion of happiness. 

This inspired Mr. Ratclife with the idea 
of having a camp on one of the islands 
in the lake on which the village bordered. 

It will be a great thing, Mary,” the 
father explained, and all that fall Robbie 
and Nan went with him and the man of 


28 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


all work to the woods to select timber for 
the construction of the cabins and pavilion. 

There will be ten bunks or berths 
against the wall, so that the boys can sleep 
high and dry, and a pavilion where we 
can eat in wet weather. I shall hire boats 
enough to give the boys a royal outing, and 
in a few years old Chicopee will be swim- 
ming with boys.” 

That was the beginning of Camp Chico- 
pee. In less time than anticipated, a score 
of boys were swimming, paddling, sailing 
about Lake Chicopee in the camp uniform. 
Little by little the story of those happy 
summers spread among the city homes, and 
by the time Nan was a tall, strong girl. 
Camp Chicopee was not a dream of the 
enthusiast, but a delightful reality. 

For several years Mrs. Ratcliffe remained 
at the old homestead through the summers, 
taking care of the chicken farm,” and 
baking innumerable cakes and pies for the 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


29 


camp, which were sent out twice a week ; 
but when Nan was twelve years old, a small 
cottage dignified only by the name of cabin, 
was built on a tiny island, at the north of 
the larger camp island. There Mrs. Rat- 
cliffe and her children became the good 
angels of the camp. That year, too, there 
were so many boys, big and little, that 
Cousin Hal and his friend Herbert Morton, 
college seniors, were constituted camp aids, 
or aides-de-camp,” as they were called. 
Cousin Hal had an eye and hand to all 
the little boys who were too courageous with 
guns or sailboats. Mr. Morton was the 
active life preserver, and no small boy was 
ever known to go beyond his depth or have 
a cramp under water, without a warning 
and a rescuing from Mr. Morton. 

Yet it was Mr. Morton who had jeopard- 
ized his own life by carelessly dragging a 
loaded gun over a stone wall, while in pur- 
suit of elusive game, thereby giving much 


30 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


trouble to himself aud anxiety to the young 
girl, who in one short month hoped to be 
his wife. 

For Marian, whose heart had been so 
broken at leaving her city home at fifteen, 
at twenty-two had found it whole enough 
to give into good keeping, and Nan was 
almost as glad to call Herbert brother, as 
Harold, cousin, so familiar and dear had 
both young men become. 

These, then, were some of the events that 
led up to that July evening, when twenty 
boys, in age from ten to fifteen, dressed 
uniformly in corduroy knickerbockers and 
flannel shirts, stood, sat, or lay in various 
postures before a huge log fire in the pavil- 
ion at Camp Chicopee. For under the 
snows of Mt. Washington, even on a July 
evening, a log fire is never oppressive, and 
almost always welcome. 

One could see that it was an occasion of 
importance, for although some of the boys 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


31 


employed their hands in fashioning, out of 
birch-bark, souvenirs of the woods to take 
back to their city homes, and others looked 
dreamily into the kaleidoscopic embers, there 
was an alertness in the way they watched 
Hal, who sat in the centre on the seat of 
honor, the one armchair, that told it was 
story night. 

That tall boy with the merry brown eyes, 
who is whittling a canoe, is Steve Whitte- 
raore. He was one of the first boys to 
come to Chicopee ; and according to the 
boys themselves, Steve thought he owned 
all Chicopee, lake, village, and woods ; ” for 
there was not a spot of the county he did 
not know and love, where the birds built 
their nests, and where the Indian pipes lay 
white under the damp oak loam, where the 
golden dodder strung its amber thread. He 
and his cousin Marshall, the boy with the 
freckled face and merry grey eyes, were 
the pioneers, and had a certain sense of 


32 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


ownership in all the treasures of land and 
water round about. 

That thin lad, all eyes and mouth, but 
with a curious, investigating air which 
brings him much wisdom, is Jimmie Hale. 
His boon companions are Howard and Shel- 
don Crawford, lads of twelve, who are con- 
tent on the floor, with chins on their hands, 
and wait for anything that shall turn up. 
These were the boys who had grown into 
the camp through early association. The 
dozen others were new boys of last year and 
this, who were learning to love the life with 
a zeal which would soon vie with the older 
love in intensity. All looked to Harold for 
a story with eagerness. 

jolly yarn, please, Mr. Harold,” 
begged some of the youngsters. 

Don’t look over-jolly,” said Steve to 
Marshall. Something is wrong with 
Hal.” 

. “ There is an old saying, ^ Perhaps it may 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


33 


turn out a sermon, perhaps turn out a 
song.’ ” 

Let ’s have the song first and sermon 
afterwards.” 

Lora MacCoy,” and the boys sang with 
a will that jolly sea-song, as follows. 


LORA MacCOY. 



34 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


F^i-r- 


— 


J — f- -i — fj— n~~f 

rm 

% — 

A 

! ^ : 



J 


^ — J- -J — J w j-j 



hair 

is brown, 

1 her eyes are blue. Her heart be-longs to me, My 

- 

-h -H— 

-n — d 


j — ^ 


1 q 

- 


4^ 



N— 


-f—w- 



* — '“tI — 1 — f 




=^=F= 

-M- 

[1^— 






bfe 



K ^ ^ i 

■ 




-• FV — 0 a — 

* = 






heart’s her corn-pass and points as true. To 

Lo - ra a-cross the sea. 

r 

^-■t t ---^ 

n 1 -j^i 






w 

L-l— 

^ s 


i: 











-\ 

V 

■ ^ J J ^ 


-t 

-4 

i 

- • 







m 


Oh the ship’s too slow, that sails for Port O’ Soy, To the 


35BS=i= 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


35 




m "n i 

n P •! % r 


n r\ ^ 

=3— 

Trrr^ 1 

“1 1 

: ^ r • 


zr — 3 




^ C 



place I know to the love o’th’fish -er boy, For my 




36 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


2 . 

When heavy nets make the fishers glad, 
There ’s joy in that for me, 

For she ’s to marry me soon, my lad, 

I ’ll own my boat, you see, 

They ’ll call the bans, to church we *11 go. 
And then we ’ll married be, 

No happier day I ’ll ever know. 

Oh, joy of that day to me. 


3. 

If hauls are light and fishers are sad 
In the empty sea. 

We took each other for good or bad, — 
What for light nets care we ? 

In Lora’s window shines her light. 

Our hearth is clean and bright. 

Where Lora’s kisses are all my own. 
With pipe and a glass at night. 

4. 

Then drink to the fisher’s love my boys. 
Away with fancies sad, 

For every laddie must find a lass. 

And every lass a lad. 

There ’s naught in all our stormy lives 
Where e’er we chance to roam. 

As true as the hearts of fishers’ wives 
Who watch till the boats come home. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


37 


And here’s the sermon — ‘‘Well, boys, in 
the first place, I must thank you for your 
good behavior to-day,when it was so neces- 
sary for me to remain with poor Morton. 
I can doubly thank you for giving up your 
practice for the sports, which I know was 
hardest of all.” 

“ Three cheers for Mr. Harold ! Hi ! 
Ki ! Yah ! ” burst from twenty lusty voices, 
as all sprang to their feet and swung their 
arms enthusiastically over their heads after 
the camp fashion of applause. 

It was some minutes before they were 
settled again into listening attitudes, the 
fire replenished and the bulletin from the 
cabin received from the lookout boy. 

“ All right, blue light.” 

“ If our sentinel had been called on duty 
last night, boys, I should have no story to tell, 
for my brain refuses to conjure any imagin- 
ary tales, and I am going to point a moral. 

“ Jimmie, who was it said yesterday. 


88 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


^ Girls are no good ’ ? And it was yon, 
Sheldon, who was afraid to go down to the 
landing alone this evening after dark and 
haul in the dory.” 

Yes, sir, I hate the dark. Nurse fright- 
ened me when I was a boy with black bears.” 

Did you ever see a black bear about 
here ? ” 

Yes ; up in Chicopee woods there are 
bears and wild cats, Jonas says.” 

Do n’t think you would go up there for 
me to-night, then, and bring home Dr. 
Smith ? ” 

The little fellows began to look at one 
another as though this poor joke of a story 
was going too far, and then, one by one, 
they looked up at Harold to read his face. 

‘^Nobody will go; then I will ask Nan 
to go.” 

Nan ? That is a joke, Nan to go ! A 
girl, go for us boys ! ” 

Well, boys, now we come to my sermon. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


39 


We all slept last night through the wind, 
never dreaming that over there at the cabin 
there was trouble, dark trouble. Mr. Mor- 
ton lay for hours very near death, and who 
was it went out in the night, dark and 
windy as it was, but Nan with little Robbie, 
frightened and helpless ? Yes, that girl who 
is no good, Jimmie, rowed over the lake to 
Chicopee, and did not stop there, but on 
old Jerry’s horse skirted the woods where 
there are those black bears and wild-cats 
and tramps, till she reached Dr. Smith’s 
house. Now do you think that kind of 
a girl is no good, boys ? ” 

Three cheers for Nan ! ” 

I say Nan ’s a brick, and she shall enter 
for the sports,” cried Sheldon. 

So say we all of us, enter for sports. 
But let us do something regularly splendid 
to show what we think of her feat,” said 
Marshall. 

We wnll ; something fine.” 


CHAPTER III. 


THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

I T was nearly a week after Nan’s mid- 
night adventure, and there had been 
very little said about it. Nan felt truly 
grateful to the boys for making no fuss over 
it. But she did not know how hard it had 
been for Harold to suppress any demonstra- 
tion on their part until Herbert was able to 
bear it. Morton was now, however, out of 
danger, and preparations for the sports were 
to be renewed on the morrow. 

Nan was sitting on the veranda of the 
little cabin, watching the stars come out on 
the blue July sky and thinking, perhaps, of 
the contrast between the peaceful calm of 
the lake and its angry face of a week ago, 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


41 


when suddenly a strange and startling ob- 
ject shot across the horizon. Was it fish, 
flesh, or fowl? Had it wings, claws, or 
horns ? Nan's young brain was well stocked 
with fairy lore, and even at fifteen loved 
to conjure a little with elfland thoughts. 
She knew she was fully awake, for behind 
her she could hear Marian and Herbert 
chatting softly and contentedly, and there 
was a not to be mistaken sound of mother 
mixing bread in the little kitchen. She, 
however, rubbed her eyes to be sure that 
the green and red lights were no illusions, 
but unmistakably real flashes from a bril- 
liant object moving quietly across the lake 
in the direction of the island. 

Cleopatra, the Flying Dutchman, Lohen- 
grin, all the fantastic barges of history 
floated through her brain before she 
called : — 

Mamma, Marian, do come quick ! What 
is this coming up the lake ? There it is 


42 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


turning towards us. Can it be coming 
here?” Nan cried in ecstasy, as the fantastic 
moving object seemed to float toward their 
pier until it came near enough to be recog- 
nized as a gorgeously decorated and illumi- 
nated sail-boat. 

From jib to flying pennant a line of bril- 
liant Chinese lanterns were strung, while 
the gunwale was set with as many more; 
from the pinnace was strung a dozen flying 
jacks bearing letters of white, which read : 

Our Lady of the Lake.” 

As the two girls ran eagerly to the water- 
side, a strain of Spanish serenade music, 
played on eight banjos and mandolins 
floated up to them. 

The girls were speechless with amaze- 
ment, as the boat moored at their landing, 
though they guessed the secret, when four 
young cavaliers gaily dressed, much be- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


43 


smeared with burnt cork as to mustaches 
and much arrayed with the missing tail- 
feathers of certain welhknown roosters from 
the poultry farm/’ stepped from the illu- 
minated barge. With a very grand manner, 
a huge roll of paper highly embossed with 
much gilt paper and ornate lettering, was 
presented to Nan by one proud spokesman, 
who was not easily recognized by reason of 
feathers and cork. 

^^We come, your Highness, to present to 
you letters patent of nobility, also the great 
Roll of Honor, also the Seal of Bravery. 
The fame of your great and valorous deeds 
has spread abroad, and reached the ears of 
a far people. The Governor of yon Island, 
whence we come, has sent us as Ambassa- 
dors to solicit your attendance at the Water 
Fete. As a slight testimonial of our regard, 
we offer you also a short cruise on these 
noble waters, in our royal barge. Our Lady 
OF THE Lake. 


44 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


The night is dark, 

But we have lights ; 

The lake is calm, 

But we are timid souls, 

And love hut quiet pleasures. 

Smile upon us, fair lady, 

And sail away.” 

A burst of laughter from the gallant crew 
greeted this effusive speech of the chief, 
who was no other than Marshall, well dis- 
guised. Harold stepped out to explain to 
his cousins that the boys had chosen this 
original form of entertainment for Nan’s 
amusement, thinking that she would enjoy 
it better than any more sentimental appre» 
ciation of her valor. 

While the cavaliers descended from the 
boat their mandolins swung over their shoul- 
ders, their smart capes picturesquely draped, 
made a pretty picture before the brilliant 
boat. Harold went on : All joking aside. 
Nan, on my own part and the part of the 
boys I have to say tliat we invite you to 


AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


45 


enter into any of the contests you like, at 
the sports, — swimming, rowing, running, 
tennis, or baseball.’' 

^^Oh, Cousin Harry, thanks, that is the 
best of all. Boys, the boat is beautiful, 
— may I really have a sail in her ? But I 
mustn’t go in this sailor dress with such 
gay cavaliers. Wait, boys, till I find 
something in tlie tableaux-box, if you have 
left anything in it.” 

Nan was as quick to catch the spirit of 
make believe ” as when a child she would 
pretend” by the hour. The old finery 
stored away in the chest, now christened 
the actors’ box, was brought to the island 
every summer to help in dramatic entertain- 
ments. To this Nan rushed, searched its 
depths hurriedly till she found a corn-col- 
ored silk, and lace mantilla, and a string of 
Roman pearls. The skirt of the old silk 
went on over the serge skirt, but the bodice, 
made years before the crusade against cor- 


46 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


sets, was impossible for Nan, so she had to 
find a crepe shawl of the same shade which 
was quickly folded across her broad shoul- 
ders to conceal her sailor blouse. A second 
more and the lace mantilla was bound with 
the Roman pearls on her golden brown 
hair. And Nan was transformed. It was 
then the boys’ turn to exclaim, as she 
appeared a Venetian lady ready for her 
gondola. 

Harold threw his cape gallantly down for 
her to walk on as she ran down the floating 
plank to the boat. Oh, I would n’t be 
Queen Elizabeth, Harold, for anything, so 
you need n’t play Sir Walter Raleigh,” said 
Nan gaily. 

The boys tuned up on the Spanish music 
again, and it floated sweetly up to the cabin 
as they sailed away. 

Nan’s voice supplemented the boys’ well, 
for though it was not a high soprano, which 
they perhaps needed, it was a round and 



The Lady of the Lake 





CHAPTER IV. 


SOME OF THE BOYS. 

T ’LL bet you a dollar.’' 

JL Whew ! what 's that, Sydney ? What 
did Mr. RatclifPe say about betting ? ” 

Said we 'd forfeit a privilege.” 

Well, you will forfeit your walk to the 
post to-night. I believe it is your night to 
go for the mail.” 

Yes, it is, and I call it just mean, there ! 
What is betting any way? Men bet, and 
when I am a man I ’ll bet.” 

^^Then, Mr. Ratcliffe’s teachings have 
done you no good, Sydney ; I am very sorry 
to hear it. You know how strongly he feels 
about betting.” 

know he does, but I think it’s all 
right j if a fellow has plenty of money, he 
has a right to bet with it.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


49 


Think a moment^ Sydney, if you have 
plenty of money, have you any right to risk 
losing it, or making it more by dishonesty, 
or taking advantage of others ? 
suppose not.” 

‘^Now when you bet, you plan to get 
some other boy’s money away from him, but 
how do you boys happen to have any money ? 
Mr. Ratcliffe says you have no use for 
money here^ and he does not wish the boys 
to have spending money at the camp.” 

My grandmother sent me five dollars.” 

^^You will have to hand it over to the 
treasurer till you have need of it. Mr. Rat- 
clifie’s instructions are very imperative about 
that.” 

The boy sulkily handed his money to 
Harold, not daring to do otherwise, as he 
knew full well that boys had been sent 
home from the camp, and just before 
sports ” too, for no reason more grave. 

The fact was that Mr. Ratcliffe and his 


4 


50 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


assistants had resolved to rule money en- 
tirely out of camp life. The boys were in 
general the sons of rich parents, many of 
them pampered and spoiled in their homes, 
and sent to Mr. RatclifEe for moral as well 
as physical training. He had full authority 
over them, and under no other condition 
would take them into the little community. 
Few boys after the first few weeks failed to 
fall under the kind yet strict discipline of 
the Camp, but here and there an obstinate 
boy held out against all rules, and such boys 
after one summer were never taken back 
into the little colony. 

Sydney Norcross was one of these boys. 
An only son of a foolish mother, the petted 
grandson of a more foolish grandmother, he 
had been indulged so much at home as to 
become perfectly intolerable. Mr. Norcross, 
an old friend of Mr. Ratcliffe, had at last set 
his foot down in opposition to the feminine 
element in his household, and at the begin- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


51 


ning of this season had written of his boy to 
Mr. Ratcliff e : — 

Dear Ratcliffe, — It is very hard for a man 
to see his only son ruined by indulgence, and I 
am going to make an appeal to you to save what 
is good in the boy, if possible. 

His mother and grandmother bewail my hard- 
heartedness in sending him away from home, but 
I feel that the time has come to change the influ- 
ences which are spoiling his life. 

I hear only the best things of your Camp for 
boys. It is, above all, self-respecting. You do 
not pamper the boys with luxury. You make 
them understand the value of labor. Above all, 
you allow no money-snobbishness to enter there. 
If you can teach my boy to respect manliness, to 
love nature, healthful exercise, and manly sports 
and work, my debt to you will be unbounded. 

Your old friend and well-wisher, 

Sydney G. Norcross. 

Mr. Ratcliffe did not write at once to Mr. 
Norcross to accept the boy. On the con- 
trary, he had a long talk with his wife be- 
fore answering the letter. 


52 NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 

We have no boys of the kind in camp 
this year, Mary. Those young cubs, the 
Vandewaters, were sent home in disgrace 
last year for persisting in swearing, boast- 
ing, and bullying, you know. The boys this 
year are a clean, manly set of fellows, and I 
should hate to see them spoiled by one 
young reprobate.” 

Yes, it would be a shame, Horace, 
especially as the boys are young and im- 
pressionable. Those little Prince boys, for 
example, all under fourteen. What bright 
little boys they are! — and as their mother 
is in Europe, we feel more anxious that they 
should not have any bad influence. Oh, 
dear ! what a responsibility it is to have the 
moral care of boys. I would rather have 
sixty girls than six boys to train.” 

^^You think so, my dear, because your 
girls are good girls, but one vicious girl will 
do as much harm in the world as ten bad 
boys, for the girl’s influence is more subtle 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


53 


and not so easily combated. But I must 
decide about Sydney Norcross, and I think 
I will put it to the boys themselves. I be- 
lieve in self-government for them, and that 
they should have a vote in all things per- 
taining to their number.” 

With that argument half-finished, the 
good professor presented the case to the 
boys themselves one evening early in 
July. 

Boys,” he said, I see before me twenty 
lads who are very dear to me. You all 
mean to be good boys, but you all have some 
faults. Few of you are unwilling to have 
these faults corrected by me and by each 
other. 

Our camp-life is for self-help, as well as 
good health, we all know. Now, I have 
watched some of you boys struggling with 
your faults manfully for several years. 
One by one, those enemies have been van- 
quished, until now I can truly say that each 


54 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


one of you wears a soul armor, steel, and 
buckler, ready to cut down envy, unchari- 
tableness, selfishness, and meanness. 

Now, boys, 1 am not going to preach to 
you, but I have a case to lay before you. 
A friend of mine has a son whom he wishes 
to trust to our care. He tells me frankly 
that he is a spoiled boy, petted and indulged 
by the women of his household. Now, this 
father loves his son as all fathers do, and he 
does not want to see him grow up mean and 
selfish, proud or peevish. He asks me to 
help him, and I ask you if you are willing 
to help this boy be a better boy, if you will 
promise me that your influence for good will 
be greater than his for bad. If, however, 
you feel that you are not strong enough to 
resist his influence, say ^no.’ We will 
take a vote upon it.’' 

The vote was all in favor of Sydney’s 
coming, and the boy was taken into the 
camp-life, not, however, without many mis- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


55 


givings on the part of both Mr. Ratcliffe and 
his assistants. 

For a time, while the novelty of the life 
lasted, the boy was on his good behavior, 
but little by little, as that wore off, he 
began to show the cloven foot, and was 
pretty generally disliked by the boys, who, 
true to their promise, did what they could 
to improve his manners and habits. But 
boys are human, and it was not easy to be 
good-natured with a selfish, mean fellow, or 
not to have a little of his influence for evil 
penetrate the virtue of the whole number. 
Both Mr. Ratcliffe and Mr. Morton felt 
badly to find that out of all the boys, Syd- 
ney had chosen as his friend young Lewis 
Prince. 

Lewis was one of three brothers, father- 
less boys, whose mother, a young widow of 
great beauty and fine intellect, had intrusted 
them to Mr. Ratcliffe’s care for the summer 
which she spent in Europe. The Prince boys 


56 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


were princely by name and nature. Lewis 
was a very Siegfried in the beauty and dar- 
ing of his person. Tall and broad, with a 
wealth of wavy golden hair, there was noth- 
ing too difficult for him to attempt, whether 
to climb a giant tree, dive from a high bridge, 
play at tennis, ball, or cricket ; and it was 
seldom that he failed to do what he at- 
tempted. He was not all muscle either, for 
a quick intellect well trained by a cultivated 
mother had made the boy a companion in 
whom his teachers delighted. In a walk, 
it was Lewis to whom the little boys turned 
for the names of the treasures found, birds’ 
eggs, butterflies, or pebbles. At evening, 
Lewis was ever ready to play at chess or 
checkers, twang his banjo, or sing a song. 
His smile was always ready, and his hat 
always first to come off, when visitors were 
at camp, and no one ever failed to say : — 
^^Who is that charming boy? Lewis 
Prince? No wonder, with such a mother! 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


57 


No father, poor fellow ! Handsome as a 
picture, and rich as a Duke! Has he any 
faults ? ” 

Mr. Ratcliffe would laugh and say : Oh, 
few boys are perfect, but Lewis has as few 
faults as any.” 

His younger brothers were different lads. 
The second one inherited the delicate con- 
stitution which brought his father to an 
early grave, was sensitive and a little under- 
handed, a boy to be carefully watched. The 
third and youngest had his eldest brother’s 
beauty and bravery, but less cleverness. 
He was more sympathetic and affectionate 
in nature. 

Nan frankly said that she loved all the 
Prince boys. 

Lewis appeals to my intellect, Harry to 
my sympathies, and Wolcott to my heart.” 

The three brothers in turn loved Nan like 
an older sister and it was to her, their 
mother had said at parting : — 


58 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


‘‘ They are my three treasures, dear Nan, 
I entrust them to you. You are to take my 
place ; your father fills a father’s place. 
You, dear girl, pet Harry for me on rainy 
days when he is dull; romp with Wolcott 
and let him hug you as tight as a bear at 
night. As for Lewis, dear ! well, Lewis 
doesn’t seem to need any mothering, my 
dear ; he has, however, his weak point ; he 
loves appreciation. He will want some one 
to listen, to look, to understand him. He 
says people are ^ so stupid, all but you and 
Nan, mamma.’ So you see, my dear, you 
will have a good deal of a load to carry.” 

But Nan was perfectly happy to carry the 
load, and fulfilled all, more than was ex- 
pected of her, as far as the Prince boys 
went. 

Harry never missed his mothering on dull 
days, and when it rained would look for 
Nan who never failed, unless the storm was 
too high for boating, to carry him over to 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


59 


the Cabin Island, where she read to him, 
made candy, or played dolls in secret with 
him, all the dismal day. 

It was to Nan that Lewis confided the 
fact that he was writing an epic poem, and 
it was on Nan, Wolcott bestowed secret 
kisses. 

Nan, however, was very much troubled 
over the intimacy of Sydney Norcross and 
Lewis Prince, and was revolving the matter 
in her mind and puzzling how she should 
broach the subject to Lewis himself, when 
Sydney was put under disgrace by Harold’s 
finding five dollars in his possession. It 
was, alas ! Lewis vrho was at the time his 
companion. To him Harold appealed re- 
proachfully : — 

Lewis, I am sure you could not have 
known that Sydney had money.” 

The handsome boy looked with flashing 
eye and scornful lip at Harold. 

^^Do you take me for a sneak? Would 


60 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


I have told on Sydney if I had known? As 
it happens, I did not know,” and he turned 
and walked away with indignation and 
wounded pride. 

Soon Harold saw him pulling a boat in 
the direction of Cabin Island, and solilo- 
quized with relief : — 

‘‘Well, if he is going to Nan, he’s all 
right ; I ’ll pay my attention to Sydney.” 

Lewis made a clean breast of it to Nan. 

“ I was not betting, and I did not know 
Sydney had any money. If I had, I might 
have torn the money up or thrown it into 
the lake, but I would n’t have told, you 
know that. Nan. Why should Harold take 
me for a sneak ? ” 

“Harold did not take you for a sneak, 
Lewis, but we can none of us understand 
why you are so very intimate with Sydney 
Norcross. He is not your kind of a boy at 
all. In fact, he is everything that you are 
not.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


61 


Lewis sat thoughtful a few moments, 
shifting his oars, in the row-locks, ner- 
vously, for Nan had met him at the landing 
and taken a seat in the boat facing him. 

‘^Well, Nan, I suppose it is my weak 
point. He flatters me. Mamma always 
calls my vanity my weak point, and I guess 
it is. Caesar’s ghost ! I ’ll give Sydney a 
talking to, and then w^ash my hands of 
him. 

“ You see. Nan, he has been telling me that 
such a fine fellow as I ought not to be under 
so many rules as the younger boys, that I 
ought to do as I liked. He would, if he 
were I, and could do what I can, swim and 
row and dive and play tennis. Oh, well, I 
ought to have had more sense than let him 
talk so, and influence me, after my promise 
to the professor and Harold. Guess old 
Vanity will have to hide her head for a 
while.” 

That ’s right, Lewis ; help Sydney as 


62 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


much as you can to be manly, but don’t let 
him persuade you that any of you boys are 
men enough to do without rules.” 

I won’t. How about the sports, Nan ? 
Are you going to enter ? ” said the boy, glad 
to throw off the burden of a bad conscience. 

Oh, yes, papa says I may enter for ten- 
nis and single sculls.” 

But not for swimming?” 

No, mamma, does n’t wish me to enter 
for the swimming; there will be so many 
visitors, and I am the only girl. I suppose 
I must remember that I am growing up, and 
another year, perhaps, I may be too much of 
a young lady to do anything with you boys.” 

Pooh ! you ’d be Nan, just the same, 
and I don’t believe you ’ll ever be too much 
of a young lady to have a good time up 
here. Get your boat out, and I ’ll pull a 
race with you round the island. You know 
my boat is going to pull against the crew 
from Little Neck.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


63 


those boys are sixteen and seven- 
teen years old, Lewis.” 

know it, but we ’ll beat them. You 
ought to come out and see our stroke. I ’ve 
trained the boys to do it as well as the Yale 
freshmen. Are you coming ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Nan, as she loosened her 
light boat, pulled easily off from the shore, 
leaned strongly forward, and sent her boat 
a length beyond Lewis. 

Ready ! ” and the two pulled evenly half 
a mile, till lost to sight behind the island. 


CHAPTER V. 


A EAINY DAY. 

H dear, Robbie ! wbat a rainy day ! '' 



V_y Nan groaned, as she made her 
appearance at breakfast on the morning of 
August tenth, dressed for boating, and not 
for a rainy day of indoor occupation. 

Yes, my dear,” said mamma, pleasantly, 
from behind the coffee-pot, trying to coax a 
little brightness to her young daughter’s 
face by showing a cheerful countenance 
herself. 

We will have to make the best of it, 
and brighten things up indoors, for it is 
settling down for a bad storm. I hardly 
think any one will venture on the water 
to-day.” 

Nan took her seat at the table, very 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


65 


little encouraged by her mother’s view of 
the situation, and Mrs. Ratcliffe turned to 
her eldest daughter with a cup of coffee and 
some crisp toast. 

Here, Marian, is Herbert’s coffee and 
toast ; will you take his breakfast to him ? ” 
Not this morning, for here is Herbert 
himself ! ” said a voice from the doorway, 
as a tall, pale young man came in on 
crutches, looking cheerily around as he 
hobbled to the table and remarked : — 

I knew the barometer was rather low 
this morning, and thought I would do what 
I could to lift the clouds inside. Good, 
Robbie, another log ; that ’s a fine fire you 
have there ; glad I got up to enjoy it. 
Nan, little sister, why so indigo ? You 
look ‘ deeply, darkly, beautifully blue ' this 
morning ! ” 

Nan made a brave effort to laugh, but the 
tears sprang to the front instead, as she 
said : — 


6 


66 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


I did want so much to go to the camp 
to-day, to play tennis and umpire the boys’ 
football. There are only five more days 
left before sports. Oh, there is papa 
with Jonas. Perhaps they will take me 
over.” 

With one bound and regardless of pour- 
ing rain. Nan was out of the house and 
on the way to the shore, where Mr. 
Ratclifie, enveloped in rubber garments, 
was, with the aid of a fisherman em- 
ployed about the camp, pulling in a small 
fishing-dory. 

Papa, papa,” cried Nan, from the pier, 
are you and Jonas going to fish to-day ? ” 

Thinking of it,” her father called back 
hoarsely. 

Well, then, can’t Jonas take us over to 
the camp before you start ? I want to see 
the boys ; Harry Prince will be looking for 
me. What are the boys doing to-day ? ” 
Nan asked eagerly as her father joined her 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


67 


on the plank that ran out to the sloping 
shore. 

Well, the big fellows are going to fish, 
and the little ones to be amused indoors. 
Harold has put up the pulleys and trapeze 
and they are having gymnastics.” 

May I go over ? ” pleaded the girl, as 
they made their way into the cabin, where 
the party at breakfast was prepared for 
their entrance, and Nan’s radiant face told 
that she had gained the desired consent. 

Jonas can take both children over, 
Mary, if you are willing, for there is not 
much wind just now, and the boys will be 
glad to see them,” said her father, continu- 
ing, as he seated himself before the fire. 
No, I have been to breakfast ; I will 
sit by this glorious fire and get dry, while 
Jonas goes over with them. Robbie, you 
are a good fireman. It takes a philosopher 
or a fool ; which are you, my boy ? There 
are only three boys at camp whom I can 


68 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


rely on for a good fire. Well, Herbert, you 
are doing well ; a few more weeks and the 
crutches can go, I guess.” 

Mr. Ratclifie, like many nervous men, 
had a cordial, genial manner when not 
harassed, that radiated a cheering atmos- 
phere. The boys loved to bask in his sun- 
shine, and dreaded his frown, so that he 
had a potent charm for his youngsters. 
Nan had her father’s vivacious geniality, 
tempered by her mother’s phlegmatic com- 
posure, so that she was better equipped than 
either parent in nature’s gifts. 

Both Robbie and Nan were soon arrayed 
for the fight with the elements, disdaining 
umbrellas, which were considered at Lake 
Chicopee badges of city weakness. A boy 
who dared to put up an umbrella was 
severely laughed at, and Nan aspired to 
do as the boys did, and tucked her long 
braids well up under the fore-and-aft cap ; 
frizzes she had none, and with feet and 


NAlSr AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


69 


legs well encased in rubber, she could have 
waded to Camp Chicopee had the lake been 
shallower. The rain beat down heavily, 
but they buffeted waves and wet laugh- 
ingly, delighted to be in the open and 
headed toward the beloved camp. 

Their appearance brought cheers from the 
group of boys gathered in the pavilion, 
and Hi, Ki, Yah ! three cheers for Nan ! ” 
rang loud and long. 

“ Now for a good time,’' cried Harry 
Prince, who helped to take off Nan’s wet 
things ” devotedly. 

What is going, boys ? ” asked Nan, look- 
ing from one group to the other, and up to 
Jimmie Hale perched on a rafter above all 
heads. 

Circus,” cried the enthusiastic young 
gymnast, swinging himself down into the 
tennis net which had been improvised as a 
safeguard against accidents. 

Who votes for circus or stories or 


70 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


candy ? ” called Harry Prince, confidingly 
suggesting to Nan his preference for the 
last. 

Why not all three ? ” half a dozen boys 
echoed at once. Time enough for all ; 
circus first, then candy for refreshments, and 
stories for rest.” 

Yes, yes, goody, goody,” screamed Wol- 
cott Prince, the camp infant, kissing Nan 
enthusiastically. 

Oh, Wolcott ’s always thinking of sweets. 
Don’t be a baby, Wolcott,” said Lewis 
Prince, coming in with two of the elder 
boys, arrayed for fishing. 

Well, if I ’d known you were coming, 
I believe I would n’t have planned to fish,” 
said Lewis aside to Nan. ‘‘ What ’s up ? ” 

We have n’t decided yet. Circus, candy, 
stories, the boys say.” 

‘‘We ’ll be back for the stories with a 
boat full of fish for dinner, too,” the big 
boys sung out, as in tarpaulins they van- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


71 


ished to brave the storm and trap the 
unwary fish. 

I say, Nan, would you be equal to keep- 
ing the peace if I should join the fisher- 
men ? Harold asked, looking longingly at 
the party which was about to sail off. 

Of course I would ; go ahead, Hal. 
Don’t you suppose I can manage these ten 
boys ? What could happen ? ” said Nan, 
proudly, looking at the boys who gathered 
affectionately about her. 

“ Oh, well, you might set fire to the 
camp,” said Harold gloomily. 

Well, there is water enough to put out 
a Chicago fire to-day. What else ? ” 
Somebody might break a leg ! ” 

Oh, no ; Herbert has done that. Light- 
ning never strikes the same place twice. 
Say rather a head ; or we might all put 
beans in our ears or our noses, like the old 
woman’s children in the story.” 

So you might, but I don’t believe you 


72 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


would ; guess, on the whole, nothing can 
happen to you, so I will trust you and be 
off for a couple of hours. Uncle won’t 
mind. Be good boys, and Nan is Minister 
Plenipotentiary. Do you know what that 
means ? ” 

Ministering Angel,” said Harry. 

Good for you, Harry ; that is just what 
Nan is ; but my long words mean that Nan 
has all the authority of her father and 
myself, and you must all do just as she 
tells you.” 

Course we will,” cried all the boys with 
one voice, and Harold disappeared, shouting 
to the vanishing fishermen : Hold on, 

fellows ! ” 

Then came a transformation scene. Nan’s 
eyes sparkled, and the boys Were all poised 
for action as, with three claps of her hands, 
Nan sang to a lively measure the old 
rhyme, known in every nursery : — 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 73 

^^One little, two little, three little, ten little Indian 
boys. 

Ten little Indian boys in a line.’’ 

Now this mystic verse is as old as the 
hills ; every baby has had it counted on 
fingers, toes, and ten-pins for centuries ; but 
Nan’s ten little Injuns ” was a game solely 
and peculiarly a camp institution, and was 
the signal for a circus frolic. 

It began by each boy shouting after the 
fashion of a round, the line, “ Ten little 
Injuns” and making a frantic stampede for 
the rafters and beams, which were heavy 
and bare, making most inviting perches for 
aspiring youths. The ten little Injuns ” 
seated on their perches, legs and arms 
swinging, sat up aloft. At a sign from 
Nan, a clap of the hands or a whistle, the 
first little Indian made himself into a tee- 
totum, spinning head over heels recklessly 
over the beam, then with skyrocket rapid- 


74 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


ity, disappearing head downward into the 
catch-net. 

One went away, and then there were nine. 

Nine little Injuns all in a liiie.’^ 

Another clap of Nan’s hands and the end 
man elevated himself to a standing position 
on the beam, pirouetted on one leg and then 
on the other, across the beam to an inter- 
secting triangle, whence he hung head 
down, whistling to the eighth Indian, who 
sprang nimbly down to a trapeze opposite 
and seized the swinging boy in his arms 
while the others sang : — r- 

“ Ninth little Injun called for his mate, 

He ran away and then there were eight.’’ 

Two, however, fell instead of one, and 
Nan had to call out : — 

Seven little Injuns in a fix, 

One ran away, then there were six.” 

Number seven, who on this occasion was 
Wolcott, with a broad grin, took a leisurely 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


75 


walk to a post, and performed the feat 
commonly known as shinnying” down the 
post to the ground. Bravo for Wolcott ! ” 

six little Injuns all up to tricks ! ’’ 

Before Nan could finish her line the six 
remaining boys, with a war-whoop which 
would have startled xipache or Sioux, leaped 
furiously into the air, reaching the net in 
a melee. With a creak and a groan the 
net gave way and left the Indians on a 
mattress below, yelling frantically, and 
scrimmaging in true football fashion. 

Here ’s to the pipe of peace ! ” called 
Nan, when playing looked like plaguing. 

Without a sound the boys squatted in a 
circle on the floor with the impassive com- 
posure of Sitting Bull. Nan vanished a 
second, then returned like a fairy god- 
mother, with a huge pan of soapsuds and 
ten clay pipes. She handed one to each 
Indian, who proceeded to smoke in peace, 


76 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


till from each bowl depended a beautiful 
transparent globe, radiant with all the 
colors of the rainbow. Each boy’s face 
rivalled in roundness his huge soap-bubble, 
till Nan declared there was danger of burst- 
ing blood-vessels, and she brought the pas- 
time to a close by pronouncing Jimmie 
Hale’s bubble the largest, and giving him 
the choice of the next occupation. 

Something to eat ! ” roared Jimmie with 
the voice of a bass drum. 

We are all hungry,” Harry seconded, 
and there was a unanimous vote for ‘^re- 
freshments.” 

Nan retired once more to the extension 
shed, which was dignified by the name of 
provision room, and produced a huge pan 
of very large doughnuts. 

“ Now, catch,” cried Nan, tossing a golden 
brown ring so dear to the hearts or stomachs 
of all small Yankee boys. 

Affairs had reached this point when Nan 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


77 


became conscious of a strong rising wind, 
which was already blowing stiffly j her eye 
trained to watch the wind clouds, saw that 
the lake was treacherous. About three 
quarters of a mile from the shore, beating 
about helplessly, in an ill-controlled fashion, 
she espied a catboat. 

I wonder who can be in that boat ! 
Surely our boys could handle a boat better 
than that even in a gale. Robbie, dear, 
will you run and get papa's field glasses ? 
I must see who is in that boat ; they will 
surely get into trouble. We must keep an 
eye on them." 

The boys were all at the windows in a 
moment. Robbie brought the glass, and 
Nan scrutinized in vain. The mist was too 
heavy for her to discern easily whose boat 
it was, much less the occupants. 

It looks as though they were two small 
fellows. They must be some boys from 
Little Neck. None of our young boys are 


78 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


allowed to go in the sail-boats alone. But 
I ’ll keep watch.” 

She had watched but a moment longer 
when she cried out : — 

Oh, boys, they are going to capsize. 
They are losing all control. I must take 
one of the boats and row out.” 

I ’ll go with you. Nan,” said Eobbie. 
^^Let me go. Nan,” cried half a dozen 
boys at once. 

No, boys, remember, Harold left you in 
my charge. Be good, and stay here with 
Robbie.” 

Get out the emergency case, Jimmie, 
and Eobbie, make up a good fire. We don’t 
know what might happen ! ” 

Like a soldier or fireman. Nan jumped 
into her rubber suit, and was down to the 
shore before the boys could protest. Harry 
cried a little, but as Jimmie promptly said. 
Shut up, baby,” he as promptly stopped, 
and was soon watching intently Nan’s 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


79 


swift, energetic movement as she rowed off 
into the lake in the direction of the cat-boat, 
which the wind was now buffeting about 
like a helpless toy. 

Nan had hardly pulled fifty strokes before 
she was nearly paralyzed by seeing the boat 
capsize and both boys go into the water. 
For dear life she pulled, necessarily with 
her back to the boys, who seemed to be 
struggling in the water, the one a good 
swimmer being hampered by the other, who 
apparently could not swim at all. 

Nan was not many minutes in getting 
near enough to recognize the boys as Lewis 
Prince and Sydney Norcross, and her heart 
stood still for a moment, then beat bravely 
with strong determination to save both 
boys. 

^^Hold him up, Lewis, I’m coming,’' 
she shouted, and pulled vigorously a few 
moments that seemed hours, till she gained 
on them. Lewis was swimming with one 


80 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


arm, while the other held up Sj^dney, who 
was almost unconscious. 

How can we get him in ? Here, Lewis, 
take my hand, I ’ll hold you up, and 
together we ’ll pull Sydney in.” 

How they did it, Nan never knew. Syd- 
ney sank into the bottom of the boat in a 
dead faint, but Lewis seized the oars and 
began to pull. 

I ’ll take cold if I don’t, Nan. Oh, how 
did you happen to come ? If it had n’t been 
for you we should have been drowned ; my 
strength was giving out, Sydney was such 
dead weight.” 

How ever did it happen that you were 
out in that catboat without Harold ? ” Nan 
asked in a dazed way, not answering Lewis’s 
questions. 

‘^Harold was in the dory fishing. You 
see, we all went out in the catboat ; then 
Harold and Steve got into the dory to fish, 
and anchored the catboat. We could have 


NAN AT CAMP CniCOPEE. 


81 


gone in the dory, too, but it was so wet we 
thought we 'd get under the shrouds. I 
had n’t an idea of sailing off, and Harold 
said they ’d just troll up and down around 
the Narrows, back of Dollar Island. All at 
once Sydney began to pull up the anchor 
and dare me to sail around Dollar Island. 
I said your father never would allow us 
little fellows to handle a catboat, alone. 
Then he called me a ^ Mollie Coddle ’ and 
dared me to do it. I thought it looked easy 
enough, and that I would be back before 
Harold; but the wind came up and drove 
us off on another tack, and I could n’t bring 
the boat around, and first thing I knew, 
she was sweeping down the lake, and the 
squall came up and pitched us over. Sydney 
cried like a baby and came near drowning 
us both. I ’ll tell you. Nan, I said my 
prayers, and God answered them, for he sent' 
you to save me for poor mamma. What 
would mamma have done, if I had been 


6 


82 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


drowned ? I, whom papa told to take care 
of her ! Poor, beautiful mamma ! ” 

The brave boy broke down and cried ; 
Nan took the oars away and said : — 

Cry away, Lewis dear, if it will do you 
good ; you will want to be brave for the 
little fellows, they are on the lookout. We 
must get Sydney into the pavilion, and 
give him some brandy, and put him to bed, 
and then send somebody for the catboat.” 

But as they came in shore, another boat 
hove in sight at the upper end of the island, 
and Nan saw with joy that in it were her 
father and Jason. 

“ What ’s the matter ? ” her father hal- 
loed. 

Nan flung out her handkerchief as a flag 
of distress, and Mr. Eatcli:ffe hastened to 
join her. When he saw Sydney lying in 
the bottom of the boat, and Lewis wet to 
the skin, he was at a loss to understand 
what had happened. Nan, however, mo- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


83 


tioned him to ask no questions till they had 
got both boys into the pavilion. 

When this was done, however, Sydney 
put to bed, rubbed and brought back to 
consciousness, and Mr. Ratcliffe learned 
the whole story, he was righteously very 
angry. 

Lewis, you have suffered enough to-day. 
I shall say no more about it at present, 
but to-morrow we will talk about this. 
Now, something must be done to get the 
catboat in, and Jason and Marshall Whit- 
temore must go out and right her, while 
I look after these lads. Nan, you must 
straighten things here, and when the other 
boats comie in, we will take account of 
damages. 

My daughter, you were a brave girl, 
and I feel sorry that such foolhardy boys 
should have put you in such peril.” 

But Lewis was no coward ; he was ready 
for his punishment. 


84 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Oh, Mr. Ratcliffe, that is what troubles 
me most. I don’t care what you do to 
me, if you will but let me stay here till 
mamma comes. Whip me, put me on 
bread and w^ater, or cut me from the 
sports. I deserve anything for risking 
Nan’s life.” 

Lewis’s young face was wan and white, 
but far from weak, as he stood before Mr. 
RatclilKe as bravely as any young Spartan. 
Nan was too overcome at first to speak ; 
but looking at Lewis she could but remem- 
ber how bravely he had kept Sydney from 
drowning, how manfully he had taken the 
blame. 

Papa, dear, you do not know how much 
Lewis has been through ; how he kept Syd- 
ney from drowning. Oh, papa, don’t punish 
him ; he is not to blame ; please forgive 
him, papa, for my sake, and for his 
mother’s.” 

Nan burst into tears and threw her arms 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


85 


about her father, sobbing out all the pent- 
up agony of the last hour. 

There, there, darling, for your sake, 
Lewis shall go scot free. Here, Lewis, if 
you are to be anybody’s prisoner, you shall 
be Nan’s. She shall do what she thinks 
best with you,” and Mr. Ratcliff e patted the 
boy kindly on the back. 

Thank you, sir ; but you won’t be too 
hard on Sydney ? ” 

Oh, well, as to Sydney, I shall have to 
hand him back to his father. I can’t do 
anything with him,” said Mr. Ratcliffe, 
hopelessly. 

^^Let me have him too, papa. He shall 
be my prisoner at the cabin for a few days, 
till he is well, and perhaps I can do some- 
thing to reform him. Poor fellow ! he has 
had an awful experience this afternoon.” 

Terrible lesson, certainly. Here come 
the others. A fine story w^e have to tell 
them. I am afraid Harold has to come in 


8G 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


for his share of the blame too. But after 
all, perhaps I am deserving of some blame 
also myself. Guess I can’t be too hard on 
Harold. We must be thankful that it is no 
worse.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


Sydney’s punishment. 

I T so happened that the consequences of 
the mishap fell most heavily upon Syd- 
ney Norcross, and although no one would 
have wished him to have so severe a lesson, 
it proved to be the one thing needful to cure 
him of not only one but many of his bad 
ways. True to her trust, Nan had him 
transferred to the cabin, which, indeed, 
served generally as infirmary for the camp 
boys, Mrs. Ratcliffe taking all the sick 
boys under her mother’s wing. 

Sydney, never a strong boy, suffered from 
nervous shock and a severe cold so that he 
was a subject for nursing for some days. Un- 
fortunately, his parents had just started on 
a driving tour through the mountains, plan- 


88 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


ning to reach Lake Chicopee at the time of the 
regatta, and it was impossible to reach them 
by letter or telegram for several days. Nan, 
as well as her mother and sister, had her 
hands full with the querulous boy, who had 
never been crossed in his life, and when sick 
had been accustomed to be waited upon by 
fond parents, doting grandmothers, and paid 
domestics. The ^‘roughing it’’ had never 
suited the boy, even when well and most 
amused. He could never adapt himself to 
the lack of service, and had bullied the little 
fellows into waiting upon him more than 
any of the seniors were aware of. He had 
easily shirked all the smaller duties by ex- 
hibiting an awkwardness, which so enraged 
the more dextrous boys, that, rather than 
wait for Sydney to cut a birch stick, any one 
of them would have preferred to level a 
tree. 

Established at the cabin in Morton’s place, 
Sydney was at first so grateful for the fem- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


89 


inine care that he forgot to be peevish, 
and Nan was so truly sorry for the boy that 
she devoted herself to his amusement for 
two days, playing games with him, reading 
aloud, or singing, as suited him best. 

But with convalescence came back queru- 
lousness, and the boy would have exhausted 
the proverbial patience of Griselda. 

He proved too much for even Nan, who 
at the end of the third day, when Sydney 
had worried her to death by his fretfulness, 
broke out in righteous indignation. 

Sydney, you are a perfect try-temper. 
I am sorry I ever attempted to be kind to 
you. I can’t see how any boy can be so 
selfish as you are. If you were my boy I 
would feed you on bread and water for a 
month. Here mamma has cooked all her 
nicest dishes for you. I have brought you 
cold water, hot milk, lemonade, tea, coffee, 
every kind of a drink you fancied, almost 
every half hour for the last three days. We 


90 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


have all read to you till we are hoarse, and 
then you have the ingratitude to say, ^ This 
is a beastly hole ; there is nothing fit to eat 
or to drink.’ I just wish I were your father 
for a half an hour. I would give you a 
good sound thrashing. Here you have got- 
ten yourself into this box by your own wil- 
fulness, and you have never had a twinge of 
conscience. I tell you, Sydney, unless you 
turn over a new leaf you will be a bad, 
vicious, disagreeable man, whom no one will 
love or care two straws about. You think 
because you have money you can buy 
friends. You can’t. You will buy servants 
and flatterers, but you will never have a 
friend in the world.” 

Nan’s blue eyes were as black as coals, 
her lips were white with anger, but there 
were two bright spots on her cheeks as she 
stood facing the boy, who lay on the couch, 
more astounded and ashamed than he had 
ever been in his life. Neither of the two 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


91 


saw the figure of a man in the doorway, nor 
was aware of the presence of Sydney’s 
father, until a voice almost as hoarse and 
moved as Nan’s broke the silence which fol- 
lowed, by — 

You are a brave girl. Nan, and it grieves 
me to say to my son that you speak most 
bitter truths. Oh, Sydney, can it be that 
you have repaid these kind people by in- 
gratitude of words and heart ? My son, for 
my sake, and as a consequence of this awful 
experience which might have cost you your 
life, turn over a new leaf, be true, unselfish, 
and manly.” 

Most strangely, it seemed to Nan, for 
Sydney, the boy turned his face to the wall 
and wept contritely, not angrily but re- 
morsefully, sobbing in broken words : — 

^^Papa, I have been a pig, a brute. I 
don’t know how I could have been so brutal 
to Nan, for she has been an angel to me. 
If anything can make me a good boy, it will 


92 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


be what she has done for me. I don’t be- 
lieve she was ever angry with one of the 
boys before, or had reason to be. If Mr. 
Katcliffe will keep me, I will turn over a 
new leaf.” 

^^No, my boy,” said the father, seating 
himself beside Sydney, and stroking the 
boy’s head lovingly and pityingly. I can- 
not ask Mr. Ratcliffe to keep you any longer 
this summer, but perhaps this is the begin- 
ning of a change, and another year this 
good Nan will see the effect of her whole- 
some advice.” 

On the morrow, Sydney Norcross left the 
camp to return to his mother and grand- 
mother, but the experience of that week was 
the turning-point of his life, and he lived to 
thank Nan for her wholesome truths. 


CHAPTEE VIL 


PRESIDENT POSS. 

S LEEPING at the bottom of the heart of 
every American boy is the hope and 
ambition to be President. 

Incidentally, he may desire knowledge 
and wealth, but through a vista of accom- 
plished aims he can always see that goal 
which is possible to every American boy — 
the Presidential chair. President in posse 
was to the Chicopee lads a distinction 
which took on a royal color on certain 
Saturday evenings during the summer days 
of camp life, and in recognition of this 
goodly ambition, there had been formed 
among themselves a society which called 
itself President Poss, familiarly P. P. 

The President Poss was trivial in name 


94 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


only. In fact, it was a body composed 
only of those boys whose work had stood 
the test of examination by a faculty com- 
posed of Mr. Ratcliffe, Mr. Morton, and Mr. 
Harold, and voted upon by a number of 
delegates, chosen from the various depart- 
ments of camp government. These de- 
partments had been formed with a view to 
making the camp self-governing and num- 
bered : a police force, whose duty it was to 
oversee and control the work of all the other 
departments ; a boat crew who answered 
all the ferry calls from the shore, and acted 
as expressmen and messengers, and attended 
visitors ; a commissary who ordered and 
provided and superintended the preparation 
of meals ; the health department, whose 
work extended throughout the whole island, 
burning and burying refuse and disorderly 
rubbish, and reporting untidiness or unclean- 
liness of any description ; the athletic de- 
partment which regulated the time and 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


95 


manner of exercise, organized the crews, 
the ball teams, and the tennis tournaments ; 
the social departments, which provided 
amusements for the evening hours, musical, 
dramatic or narrative. 

To become eligible for the rank of Presi- 
dent in posse, the candidate must have 
served one week in each of these divisions, 
and have an unimpeachable moral record. 
From Cousin Harold in his book-keeping 
office, to little Sheldon on the boat lamding, 
doing his share of scrub work, by cleaning 
knives, every boy felt that this was a day 
of reckoning and of rewards. Some of the 
boys were glad that the day had come, as 
they were eager for a change of work, but 
more of them were anxious to have their 
work found creditable and meritorious. 

The four boys who had charge of the 
commissary department wished to have 
to-day’s dinner the best at the least cost of 
any dinner during the summer. The boat 


96 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


crew who served as expressmen were striv- 
ing to make the best despatch of the season. 
The police force, who did what the boys 
termed the ^Hall looking on,” were more 
vigilant than ever in enforcing discipline 
and order. 

Cousin Harold at his books had a daily 
record of each boy’s work, and knew pretty 
well who should merit the presidential honor, 
but he knew also that the popular vote 
sometimes set aside the candidate of the 
books. 

“ It is going to rain to-night. It won’t 
be an open Poss,” said Jimmie Hale, view- 
ing the weather like an old tar, as he pulled 
in the boat with the last load of Sunday 
provisions. 

Rain sure,” said his mate, Ernest 
Lovering, turning to look toward the west 
where a grey cloud was settling over the 
lake. 

Well, the pavilion is always cosy enough 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 97 

in wet weather. There goes that ferry bell 
again. What is wanted over at the shore 
now ? I say, Hal,” Jimmie added to that 
young man, who walked to the landing to 
assist in unloading and to make an inven- 
tory of the cargo. 

I think we fellows should be let off this 
time. Six times to the shore in one morn- 
ing is too much, when it is for business, not 
pleasure. Boat crews are n't electric ma- 
chines. Give some o' the others a job. It 
is just some of old Jerry's tomfoolery, I 
will be bound. Wants to know which way 
our weather-vane turns, or if we have some 
St. Jacob’s oil for his rheumatism. Don't 
see how such a chump as Jerry has sense 
enough to eat. Halloa, Nan, where are 
you bound ? Don’t you want to take a 
turn over to the village ? ” 

Jimmie hailed Nan, whose little boat shot 
round the bend, headed for the camp. 

I was just coming over to offer my help, 

7 


98 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


you boys seem to have been awfully busy 
this morning and I uncommonly idle. Any- 
body want to go ? Jump in Wolcott, Infant, 
if you have finished your task ! ” Nan 
added as she pulled her boat up to the 
floating wharf, where Wolcott Prince was 
seated beside Sheldon, a pile of knives, 
brightly scoured, lying between them. De- 
termination and pride were on both faces, 
and Wolcott sprang up, flourishing a knife 
in one hand, and a flannel rag in the 
other. 

Look at these knives, if you don’t think 
we can do anything. Three dozen of them. 
Are n’t they bright, though ? I ’d like to 
see any of the other little fellows beat that. 
Guess police won’t have anything to say to 
us to-night about shirking.” 

The little fellow was a picture of cherubic 
beauty, and Nan always found it hard to 
resist a temptation to kiss him, in spite of 
the Spartan rules which made it a weakness 



The Camp Infant. 



• • w . » 



NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


99 


beyond the territory of Cabin Island. His 
blue eyes danced merrily beneath his yellow 
curls that lay in soft waves on his broad 
forehead, now wet with the heat of labor. 
His tanned little cheeks were flushed with 
pride and excitement, and his sturdy little 
figure made him worthy the pet title of 

Camp Infant,” bestowed on Chicopee’s 
favored junior. 

In point of age, Sheldon was more en- 
titled to the office, for he was a few months 
younger than Wolcott, neither of them 
having reached that turning corner of baby- 
hood, the eighth birthday, and Sheldon had 
for a brief season enjoyed the favors and 
petting which belonged to the Camp Infant, 
until it was painfully discovered by those 
in authority that Sheldon could not, would 
not, or did not always tell the truth, 
whereon he was promptly deprived of his 
title, and put on his honor for one month, 
to regain it by good behavior. 


100 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


From the day of the last President Poss, 
when Wolcott was crowned Infant at the 
expense of Sheldon, the little king had never 
relaxed his efforts to help Sheldon overcome 
his habit of telling whoppers,” and his 
generosity in attempting to restore his 
friend to favor had won for him much 
approval from his seniors. 

Nan understood the friendship of the two 
little lads well enough to know what the 
result would be when she extended her 
invitation to Wolcott, who looked at his 
bright knives, then at Sheldon’s, and then 
beyond to his friend’s still imburnished 
number. But Sheldon knew what was in 
Wolcott’s mind, and though it cost him an 
effort, still, looking ruefully at his knives, 
he said manfully : — 

Never mind, Wolcott; you go along. 
You have done some of mine, and these are 
all mine to finish.” 

But Wolcott was not to be outdone in 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


101 


generosity, so he made a bold dash at Nan’s 
good heart, saying : — 

Can’t you wait a minute. Nan, and 
take us both? If I’ll help Sheldon, he 
will get through quicker, and we can 
both go.” 

But I did n’t ask both,” said Nan, 
laughing. 

“ Well, then we won’t either of us go, 
’cause Sheldon has worked just as hard as I 
have,” said Wolcott, sturdily. 

‘^That’s a good friend, Wolcott. You 
both hurry up, and Sheldon shall go too.” 

Soon the tj^o little lads were seated in 
the stern, and Nan’s boat, christened the 
u Worry” because of the anxious hours its 
early use had given her mamma, was speed- 
ing towards the opposite shore. 

I say. Nan,” said Wolcott, when they 
were well under way, do Presidents have 
such a lot of work to do, — scrubbing knives 
and sweeping up and brushing clothes and 


102 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


singing in choirs ? Awful lot of work to 
be President ! ” 

Nan laughed her merry laugh, which all 
the boys, little and big, loved, for it brought 
to light two deep dimples that seemed to 
hide no one knew where, when her face was 
in repose, and she answered : — 

What do you think about it, Sheldon ? 
Do you think the President of the United 
States spends his time doing knives, and 
such things ? I am afraid the affairs of the 
country would be in a bad fix. No, boys, 
papa does not mean you to think that to 
be great men, you must all do scrub work. 
It is only that all great men have had to 
learn to do some kind of small work well, 
and the better work you do as little boys, 
the easier you will find it to do the big 
work when you are big boys. Do you 
think Cousin Harold and Marshall don’t 
have any work to do because they are 
police, and only keep watch over you little 


NAJT AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


103 


boys ? They have all taken their turn at 
your kind of work, and know how to do it 
a good deal better than you.’’ 

Nan paused for breath and looked behind 
her to see the shore near at hand, and old 
Jerry standing under the, huge bell with a 
basket on his arm. 

Halloa, Jerry, what is wanted ? The 
boys have been over so many times, they 
thought they had everything.” 

Well, they wuz in such an alhfired 
hurry to make time back to the island, they 
just went plump off an’ lef this yer basket 
o’ eggs. Guess yer ma ’ll want ’em ’fore 
Monday. ^ Haste makes waste.’ Never 
knew it fail.” 

That’s so, Jerry; but to-day’s a great 
day. The boys were in a special hurry. 
We elect a new president to-day,” and Nan 
seized the big basket in her strong arms and 
set it in the bottom of the boat. 

Elect a president ! by Godfrey ! Not 


104 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


for sure ? W ell, that beats all. How I do 
lose my reckoning. I was just a-thinking 
’twan’t election till another y’ar. How I 
doos forgit ! I recollect whan I was young, 
there was a President went to Washington 
from these parts. Pierce, his name. Great 
times them was. And how you goin' to 
elect a president?’' 

“ This time it is only President of Chic- 
opee Camp, Jerry, not of the United 
States. We make our own government 
over there, you see, and choose our own 
officers.” 

So, so ; well you do most everything 
over there, ’cept make cider and dig pota- 
ties. Tell your pa I can help Jonas up to 
the farm any day next week.” 

All right, Jerry ; will you push us off ? 

^^Let us row back. Nan, won’t you?” 
Sheldon pleaded as he and Wolcott began to 
clamber to the bow seats. 

Steady there,” called Jerry, holding in 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


105 


the Worry” till the little fellows were 
seated, and Nan had seized one oar as pad- 
dle, to start the little craft straight in her 
course. The little lads each took an oar and 
pulled, with some crab-catching, a fairly 
good stroke. 

It took them some minutes to fall into 
time, then Wolcott burst out with enthu- 
siasm : — 

^^Why don’t they make you president. 
Nan ? We little fellows will vote for you.” 

Oh, girls are n’t ever presidents.” 

Well, they are queens, and queens are a 
lot greater than presidents ; they chop off 
men’s heads as easy as lightning. Lewis 
read all about Queen Mary and Queen Bess 
and good Queen Vic. If you can’t be 
president, why not have a queen for a 
change ? I ’d sooner vote for you than 
Lewis. Some of the fellows are going to 
vote for Lewis. You just cut in and get 
queen. Nan. Then we little fellows could 


106 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


have our say once in a while, about dinners 
and swimming.” 

Oh, yes, Wolcott, when T am Queen of 
Chicopee, I ’ll make you little boys my 
ministers, and we wull have a castle on 
Cabin Island, and a gingerbread dining-hall 
with a chocolate roof, and windows all 
framed in peppermint sticks.” 

‘^And no dish- washing nor knife-scrub- 
bing,” chirped Sheldon. 

No ; we will say, ^ Ho, minions,’ and a 
new set of dishes will come up, and we shall 
never know what became of the old ones.” 

^^That will be jolly; oh, do be queen. 
Nan ! We ’ll vote for you to-night.” 

You ’ll have to vote for the candidate, 
so be good boys and don’t ‘ bolt the ticket,’ 
as Lewis says. Here we are ! Back water, 
Sheldon.” 

The promise of cloudy weather was fully 
realized, and the Boss evening was ushered 
in by a drizzle, drozzle rain which the boj's 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


107 


did not hesitate to call very nasty ” in- 
deed, although in general they cared no 
more for weather than any other class of 
amphibious animals who spend as much 
time in the water as on land. 

But the Boss ” was in some sort a fes- 
tival, and a festival night was always 
better for starlight without. 

However, there was no repining, and 
tlie lads worked busily over the construc- 
tion of an enclosure which was known 
as the Ladies’ Gallery,” where Nan, her 
mamma and sister should sit in state, 
embowered in hemlock boughs and bunt- 
ing drapery. Twp mysterious structures 
at a distance resembling sentry boxes, 
upon near inspection very suggestive of 
packing boxes, were ambitiously christened 
“ Ballot Booths.” 

At seven o’clock sharp, the whole number 
of citizens of the little commonwealth of 
Camp Chicopee, including Jonas the fisher- 


108 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


man and Thomas the Indian cook, sat in 
state in the pavilion, and proceeded after 
the manner of the English and French 
governing bodies, to turn out its ministry. 
Mr. Katcliffe on these occasions was presid- 
ing officer, and on his right sat the outgoing 
president of the Poss,” and on his left the 
cabinet ministers, who all looked very grave 
and important, as though the weightiest 
affairs of a great nation lay on their young 
shoulders. Below the desk of the presiding 
officer sat Cousin Harold, clerk of the house 
as he was ambitiously called, with his pen 
behind his ear, and in his hands that impos- 
ing volume known as reports,” wherein 
everybody’s good and bad deeds were faith- 
fully recorded. 

The boys themselves, in great majesty, 
occupied the body of the house, so to speak, 
and sat like West Point cadets, erect and 
soldierly, with chins uplifted by the un- 
wonted adornment of stiff shirts and collars. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


109 


Mr. Ratcliffe himself had even donned his 
second best coat, in honor of the occasion 
and allowed his wife to tie a straight, 
narrow, black cravat, which added much 
to the dignity of his dominieship; and when 
he stepped forward to the improvised desk, 
and swung the gavel” (familiarly known 
as the mallet in the tool house, but now 
invested with mysterious attributes of 
authority), each boy felt himself to be a 
great American citizen. 

My dear young friends and ladies,” 
began Mr. Ratcliffe, we are here to-night 
to give you the report of your month^s 
work, to thank your President for the 
worthiness with which he has filled his 
office, and to elect a new President. 

Stephen Whittemore has been most 
faithful in his work, and his example may 
well be followed by his successors. Under 
his management the police force has been 
vigilant in its supervision over health-board 


110 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


and express-crew. The month has been 
fruitful, not only of good work, but helpful 
amusement, thanks to the athletic and 
social departments. The younger boys of 
the Scrub Corps have done efficient work, 
and there has been a notable decrease in 
fines. 

The choir music has been well rendered 
and the services at Oak Grove Chapel ably 
assisted by good attention and excellent 
music. The Commissary Department has 
been well and economically managed. Our 
Secretary will now read the records.’’ 

Mr. Ratclifie was loudly applauded, of 
course, by the boys, who never lost an 
opportunity to clap or cheer their chief. 
Harold then rose, adjusted his glasses, 
coughed, and surveyed the ranks before him, 
as he read the following : — 

The officers for the month of Jul}^ 
have been : Stephen Whittemore, President ; 
Marshall Whittemore, Chief of Police ; 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Ill 


Lewis Prince, Captain of Crew and Ath- 
letics ; James Hale, Superintendent of Ex- 
press ; Ernest Lovering, Health Officer ; 
Anna Ratcliffe, President of Social and 
Dramatic Club; Harry Prince, Chief Scul- 
lion ; Wolcott Prince, Infant. 

“ These officers have all served well, and 
are eligible for promotion. The fines for 
neglected duties amount only to $2.93 as 
against $4.00 for June. These fines go 
towards the supper for the Regatta. Shel- 
don Crawford is especially recommended 
for honorable mention as having a better 
record this month than at any time dur- 
ing his life in camp. It is moved that 
Miss Anne Ratclifie have a vote of thanks 
for her good efforts in the Entertainment 
Club.” 

Second the motion.” 

Aye, aye ! Hi ! Ki ! Yah ! ” rose 
unanimously from the House.” 

. ‘‘ Marshall Whittemore has an unblem- 


112 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


ished record as Chief of Police, and is 
recommended for the next President. The 
ticket prepared by the faculty, according 
to the past month’s work, is as follows : — 

Marshall Whittemore, President, 

Lewis Prince, Chief of Police. 

Nan Ratcliffe, Commissary. 

Davy Baker, Health Officer. 

Stuart Dodge, Captain of Crew. 

James Hale, Entertainer. 

Harry Prince, Captain of Scullions. 

Sheldon Crawford, Infant. 

The delegates, composed of the heads of 
the departments, will now retire and name 
their candidates, and we will proceed to 
ballot.” 

This ceremony was somewhat superfluous 
as the boys had their own ticket already 
drawn up, but it was soon presented by Mr. 
Morton, who, though on crutches, was able 
to assist at this important function, and was 


NAN AT CAMP CniCOPEE. 


113 


soon stationed in one sentry box^ where he 
distributed the boys’ ballots, which were 
made out in this form : 

President. — Lewis Prince. 

Chief of Police. — Stephen Whittemore. 

Captain of Crew. — James Hale. 

Health Officer. — Marshall Whittemore. 

Commissary, — Ernest Lovering. 

Entertainer. — Nan Ratcliffe. 

Chief Scullion. — Robbie Ratcliffe. 

Infant. — Wolcott Prince. 

The ballots were distributed as called for, 
some of the boys using the straight ticket, 
others scratching one or two names from 
one ticket to use those on the other. The 
ballots when finally counted, were found to 
give a tie between Lewis and Marshall for 
President, the other officers being those 
headed by MarshalEs name. 

Let Nan have the deciding vote,” cried 
the boys, for Nan although holding office, 
had hitherto never cast a vote, her father 
8 


114 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


being openly opposed to woman’s suffrage, 
not wishing to encourage it in their mimic 
world. Here, however, it was impossible to 
gainsay the boys as they clamored, Yes, 
give Nan the choice.” 

‘^Well, she must be blindfolded, then,” 
said her father, and be Justice not 
Liberty.” 

don’t think that just fair,” cried the 
boys simultaneously, the two candidates 
alone remaining silent, each looking at 
Nan with a different expression. Nan was 
dimly conscious of the warfare between the 
two boys, which was one not of precedence 
only. Marshall, two years her senior, had 
been until of late her closest friend, since 
that first summer when he had come to the 
old homestead ; until Lewis came two years 
before, Marshall might be said to have had 
no rival in Nan’s regard. But Lewis, all 
conquering, brooked no rival. His frank 
confidence in himself, and his power, his 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


115 


charm, his beauty and talent, were well- 
nigh irresistible, and the fact that he was 
purely a boy and her junior, made the rela- 
tionship between them one of good com- 
radeship. Marshall in his eighteenth year 
was no longer the boy who had been her 
playmate, and Nan felt the change, though 
she could not even to herself describe it. 
It, however, added to the difficulty of making 
any choice between them, and her father’s 
condition that she should be blindfolded, 
alone made it possible. In her heart of 
hearts she knew that Marshall would be the 
best president, especially for the long 
term,” as this last election was for the rest 
of the season including the two weeks in 
September. 

Choose, Nan, hurry,” cried the boys, 
and she felt the bandage tied over her eyes 
with a slight tremor of the heart ; but her 
nerves were too strong to let the hands 
tremble that drew out the ballot for 


116 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


President. — Lewis Prince. 

‘^Hi! Ki! Yah! Hurrah for Lewis 1’^ 
cried the boys. 

“ Jiminy 1 Won’t his Lordship boss ! ” said 
Wolcott. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE ARGONAUTS. 

HERE is no doubt about it. Lewis 



JL will have to resign or be impeached, 
for if he keeps his office another week the 
camp will become demoralized. Things are 
going from bad to worse. The boys won’t 
obey him, and he puts on so many airs that 
he is quite insufferable. He has had his 
head turned, and is really too young for the 
place, you see. It takes something besides 
sail to run this ship ; a fellow must have 
ballast. Now, Lewis has plenty of sail and 
wind, too, but he lacks ballast. We ought 
to have waited another year before putting 
liim into the President’s place.” 

Two of the senior boys sat on the north 
shore of the island, now and again skipping 
a pebble, and starting the eddies which 


118 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


whirled ever wider towards the opposite 
shore. Stephen and Harold were kindred 
spirits, taking the business of life seriously, 
as becomes a young man who is to study 
for church orders, and another who is al- 
ready studying law. They were out of sight 
of the little hamlet of buildings which made 
up the camp, but not out of sound of its life, 
and from time to time the blow of an axe 
startled the echoes of the opposite rocky 
hill, and bounded on to be lost in the forest 
beyond, followed again by the shouts of 
boys at a game of ball in the clearing by 
the South Wood. Through the wood a 
faint smoke rose from the cook's fire, tell- 
ing of supper at no distant hour. 

The day had been warm, and there had 
been a delayed activity and an inclination 
to drowse, and if the truth were known, it 
is probable that Steve and Hal had both 
been caught napping by the north wind 
five minutes ago. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


119 


What does the Don say ? ” said Steve, 
pondering Hal’s judgment of the young 
President, whose tenure of office had now 
lasted two weeks. 

Well, he believes in letting the boys 
have the full benefit of their experiment, 
and work out their own salvation.” 

Salvation, yes, but not destruction ! ” 
said Steve, taking off his glasses and rub- 
bing them with a corner of his handker- 
chief, then putting them on again to aid 
reflection more than take a view of any- 
thing in sight. 

Uncle things the boys have got to learn 
as much by their unsuccessful experiments 
as by their successful ones. Still, if he 
really thought the boys, especially the 
younger ones, were getting spoiled, he 
would, I believe, come in and put a stop to 
the mismanagement,” said Harold. 

^^What do you think Lewis’s trouble is, 
except youngness, — that is, his chief 


120 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


trouble ? ” asked Steve, taking off his 
glasses, and blinking blindly. 

Youngness is, of course, at the bottom 
of it, but if he were only young in every- 
thing, as he is in years, one could snub him, 
and put him down a bit. You see, his hav- 
ing no father has brought him forward a 
lot, for his mother talks to him as though 
he were twenty. He has been everywhere, 
and read no end of books, and has an 
awfully good opinion of himself with some 
reason. But he has n’t balance. He wants 
to start a lot of big schemes, and get him- 
self talked about. Instead of making the 
boys do their usual work better than any 
one else has done, he wants to set new 
schemes on foot. But that isn’t his style, 
he must be stirring up a breeze, and getting 
up a crusade or a revolution or an Argonaut 
expedition.” 

Harold whistled impatiently, and Steve 
continued : — 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


121 


The boys will not finish that boat, and 
as for the head carved from the cedar 
stump, they won’t get that half done before 
the sports. I must say, though, that Lewis 
knows what he is about when he takes a 
pencil or chisel. Now that head of Nan is 
first rate and he has made the measure- 
ments so accurately that the boys have not 
the slightest trouble in carving it. Only 
the boat should have been begun a month 
ago.” 

Steve stood up and stamped his foot em- 
phatically, and Harold took up the strain 
somewhat apologetically for Lewis. 

Well, you see, Lewis has the idealist 
temperament. The little things don’t count. 
Fellows like that don’t see the little things. 
They are like you near-sighted fellows with 
your glasses off. They don’t see anything 
but the high things ; all the rest is a sort of 
blank. Now, I don’t suppose that you with 
your glasses off can see that boat or those 


122 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


reeds or cat-tails there. You see just the 
big sheet of water and the high hills on the 
other shore. It must be a comfortable tem- 
perament to have, — like a trip to Italy 
with dirt and vermin left out.’' 

^^But somebody has got to be practical 
and small-minded, for there are so many de- 
tails, especially in this co-operative plan. I 
think Lewis would better give his whole at- 
tention to his boat and prow, if he wants to 
finish anything before the 25th. Supposing 
we wait upon him as a committee of two or 
three. Get Marshall.” 

Harold stood up and drew himself to- 
gether as if to shake ofi the idleness of a 
do-nothing hour, and to prepare for a piece 
of disagreeable work. 

Not Marsh. Catch Marsh asking Lewis 
to resign 1 Don’t you see that would never 
do ? Marshall was the other candidate, and 
then there 's Nan. Marsh is awfully jealous 
of Lewis on Nan’s account.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


123 


Well, that is silly enough ! A child like 
Nan!” said Harold, disdainfully. ^‘Better 
not let Cousin Mary know that, or we won’t 
have Nan here another year. It has been 
just the best thing about the camp, that 
none of the fellows except Morton have ever 
been sentimental.” 

Not sentimental. Marsh is n’t senti- 
mental, but he and Nan have always been 
such chums, before Lewis came.” 

Well, we’ll have to get along this time 
without Marshall. Wonder where we ’ll 
find His Majesty ? ” 

^^Down at the studio. I fancy he has 
hardly been out to-day. It has been so 
hot.” 

Setting their yachting caps at an angle 
where they appeared to have some relation 
to their occipital development, the two 
young men took their way to a remote 
corner of the island, where, hidden among 
evergreens, a picturesque and rustic little 


124 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


building, twelve by fifteen feet, called 
Lewis’s, studio,’’ was concealed. 

Put up at his mother’s expense, this little 
den of Lewis’s had been fitted out with every 
appliance of amateur photography, and 
Lewis, who with all his faults was generos- 
ity itself, gave to his fellow-artists free and 
lavish use of his materials and laboratory, 
his dark closet, his sensitized plates and blue 
prints, and by general use, it had become a 
sort of Camera Club room. 

Here, then, were the results of the many 
kodak tramps. On the walls were photo- 
graphs of every camp boy past and present, 
in every attitude possible to human figure, 
in every attire known to the species, from 
elegant to disreputable, with every expres- 
sion possible to facial muscles, and many, by 
reason of imperfect light and focus, impos- 
sible to man or ape. Here was the gallery 
of pets, lost and found, from the fox caught 
and tamed by Marshall to the baby owl 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


125 


caged by Robbie, and many other favorites, 
canine, bovine, and feline. 

But one corner of this sacred precinct ivas 
consecrated entirely to photographs of Nan, 
professional and amateur, in all the varying 
stages of her infancy and girlhood. Here 
was Nan in long frocks at the age of six 
months, and Nan in short frocks at the age 
of six years. There was Nan very prim, 
dressed for a Boston photograph at the age 
of ten, and here again dozens of blue prints 
and brown prints of Nan at eleven, twelve, 
thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Nan in short 
hair, in long hair, in smiles, in frowns, in 
groups with any number of boys from two 
to twenty. Nan at tennis, and Nan at ball. 
The latest was one upon which Lewis had 
spent much care in finishing. Nan in the 
yellow satin gown and lace mantilla found 
in the theatrical trunk. 

At the right was the dramatic club in its 
manifold make-ups for plays and tableaux. 


126 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Here, as jolly tars in Pinafore/’ there, as 
twenty lovesick maidens in Patience ; ” 
now as brigands, then as monks, again as 
the dwarfs of Rip Van Winkle. Here was 
the base-ball team, there the foot-ball 
eleven ; on this side, the tennis champions 
of alternate years, on that, the crews of 
the regattas. 

Lewis’s studio was indeed a museum of 
no mean importance, the pictorial records 
of which might furnish a very fair history 
of camp life. To-day, Lewis stood in the 
centre of it, before a table on which lay a 
large sheet of brown paper, where was 
traced the outlines of a female head, so 
marked and traversed by lines and measure- 
ments as to resemble nothing so much as 
the chart of a phrenologist. At one side, 
on a rude support, was a block of cedar 
smoothly shaped into the form of a female 
head. About this block were grouped four 
lads handling the tools of wood-carving. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


127 


Two under Lewis’s direction were chiseling 
upon the block. At the knock the boys 
hastily threw a cloth over the half-completed 
head before opening the door, for this was 
to be a secret from Nan, and must not be 
surprised. 

Lewis received the boys graciously, as 
was his way, saying : — 

Want to see our head, Hal ? We cover 
it up, for we don’t want Nan to know any- 
thing about it.” 

The younger lads threw back the cloth, 
proudly, and displayed their handiwork 
which was fast gaining recognizable out- 
lines, so fast that Harold who had only seen 
it in its first stage, drew back with amaze- 
ment. ^ 

Whew ! that is immense ! Did nT know 
you could do so well as that.” 

Oh, I could n’t alone, for I hate the de- 
tails y but the other fellows do all the hard 
work. I just show them how, and make 


128 


NAN AT CAMP CniCOPEE. 


the drawings and measurements/’ said 
Lewis, magnanimously. 

I should say that was a good deal,” said 
Jimmie, looking admiringly at Lewis. 

I never learned half so much about 
wood-carving at school as Lewis has told 
me,” added Ernest. 

Steve and Harold looked at each other 
somewhat abashed. They had come to 
blame and stayed to praise, and they found 
Lewis accomplishing a task, which both of 
them thought titanic ; for neither of them 
had that spark of genius which kindles en- 
thusiasm in those who are near it. 

I say, Lewis,” said Steve at last, with a 
good deal of awkward constraint, this 
sort of work takes a good deal of your time, 
and then there is the training for the race. 
Wouldn’t you like to be relieved from your 
^ presidential,’ till this is done ? That is 
sort of humdrum business. Suppose that 
you keep the honor and preside at the meet- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


129 


ings, and just name a vice-president, who 
will look after the details.” 

Lewis flushed for a moment, for he was 
too clever not to see what was meant, and 
to know that he had neglected some of the 
duties of his offlce. 

Thanks, awfully, Steve. I wish some- 
body would take it. I don’t care much for 
the work, but if somebody does the work, 
I shall certainly not keep all the glory. I 
hope I ’m not such a chump as that. I ’ll 
tell you what, I ’ll resign in favor of Mar- 
shall. Call a meeting for to-night. Nan 
said I would n’t make a good prex. Let ’s 
shake hands on that.” 

All right ! ” said the young men, closing 
the door which Lewis locked after them. 

They walked on in silence for a few mo- 
ments, till midway to the pavilion they 
met Mr. Ratcliffe. Harold was the first to 
speak. 

Uncle, we have been down to Lewis’s 

9 


130 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


studio. Do you know what a good thing he 
is doing there ? ” 

Mr. Ratcliffe raised his eyebrows, for he 
had not been ignorant of the ill-feeling of 
the seniors towards Lewis’s aspirations. 

So you think it fine ? ” 

Immense ! ” said Steve, emphatically. 

We went down to make a proposition to 
him to resign the presidency,” said Hal, 
honestly. 

^‘Well, what did he say?” asked the 
Don, showing no surprise. 

^^He agreed with us, that he wasn’t just 
fitted for all the details, and would rather 
work on the boat and the prow. He is to 
call a meeting for to-night, and resign in 
favor of Marshall.” 

Eh, so ! ” said the Don. That is the 
way you have settled it. I am glad 3'ou 
have worked it out that way ; but Marshall 
must be carefully handled, or we will see 
sparks fly. Lewis is a genius and will 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


131 


eventually do something with his art. 
Meantime the commonplace suffers. One 
can’t expect everything. I have just been 
down to see the boat. The lines are good. 
The skeleton is up, and it is ready for 
the outside work. She may prove a treach- 
erous craft, but the boys are interested, and 
it wdll be a new feature for the sports and 
there is no real harm done. I think I will 
see Marshall myself about this before Lewis, 
as I can adjust it better, perhaps.” 

‘‘ That will be best, I guess. Uncle.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE REGATTA. 



^RUE to his character, Lewis rose with 


A the elasticity of a rubber ball, and 
although subdued for a few days by the 
abdication of his distinguished honors, he 
was soon lost again in the accomplishment 
of his great boat scheme, entirely forgetful 
of the presidential glory which Marshall, 
not without much persuasion, had finally 
assumed. The boat itself had progressed 
rapidly. The boys, in crews of four and 
five, had taken turns in sheathing the double 
keel, until that was ready for the mounting 
of the curious triangular deck-body, which 
is one of the features of the catamaran. 
The calking and painting finally finished, 
the rigging and sails, which had been or- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


133 


dered from Boston, were set in place, and 
the final christening and launching was to 
be a feature of the great Regatta Day, 
August 25, which, in all seasons, and none 
more than this, marked the zenith of 
camp glory. The special feature of this 
important ceremony, the placing of the 
prow-head, was also reserved till late in the 
day, lest Nan should discover the secret 
which had been so carefully guarded. 

The achievement of this feat, and the 
other preparations for Regatta Day had not 
been gained without many trials and disap- 
pointments, but on the eve of the twenty- 
fifth the fiags were flying proudly, all the 
colors were set, the course staked for the 
morrow’s races, the boys all trained and 
trimmed for fight and victory. Lewis, after 
his struggle, in the full consciousness that 
he had deserved to be removed from his 
position as captain of the Junior Crew, had 
been put upon his mettle by his reinstal- 


134 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


ment to favor, and never rowed so well 
or kept his crew in such good form as on 
the evening of the 24th, when he pulled 
over the course for the last time before the 
race. 

Those boys from Little Neck will find 
it hard to beat us,” said the young captain 
proudly. 

That ’s so. Prince,” said Marshall, the 
leader of the single sculls. 

Those boys from Little Neck had however 
some advantages not to be despised. The 
rival camp was composed of boys from a 
well-known school, who were tutoring on 
an island at the upper end of the lake. 
Although there ostensibly to work off con- 
ditions and regain lost places in their classes, 
a few of them had received the benefit of 
pulling under a thorough trainer. Lewis 
was, however, not to be daunted by them, 
and was only too glad to meet a foeman 
worthy of his steel.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


135 


The other contests were of no mean 
value, and the sports at Camp Chicopee ” 
were the great event of the lake season, 
attracting visitors and participants in large 
numbers until the water presented a truly 
Venetian aspect, as every species of boat, 
catboat, steam-launch, wherry and cata- 
maran, floated by the shores of the Island 
Camp. 

But we are anticipating. ’Tis only the 
eve of the Regatta. If the boys* hearts 
beat high, there was one girl whose heart 
was tripping wildly. For Nan it was to 
be an occasion of momentous importance, 
marking a most crucial change in her 
status at camp. 

Hitherto she had been the camp angel, 
confidante, and idol. To-morrow she was to 
take her part as one of the fellows.” Was 
she to lose by it or gain by it ? Would the 
boys reverence or love her less? Would 
her influence be lessened or increased ? 


136 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Poor little girl, sitting there in her 
long wrapper, her beautiful hair unbound, 

“ Standing, with reluctant feet 
Where the brook and river meet 
Womanhood and childhood fleet.” 


She does not know that she is battling 
with a problem which may confront her 
years hence at the college door, still later 
yet, perhaps, at the ballot-box. Conscious 
only of her love of action, her strength, 
courage and ability, she had hardly ques- 
tioned her desire to enter the list of com- 
batants ; but lately had she begun to realize 
that she might be making a mistake in 
following out her cherished wish. 

^‘Well, it will be only for this once. 
Next summer I shall be sixteen ; my dresses 
will be long, my hair up, and then I can’t. 
Just for this once I must and can. Suppose, 
however, I fail, will the boys pity or despise 
me ? How will they treat me ? They shall 



Nan, the night before the Regatta. 



NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


137 


not ; I will carry off that single scull and 
the tennis prize.’' 

With that, she took down her boating 
dress, sewed on the twin colors of crimson 
and blue, which was the camp’s badge of 
neutrality toward both the great universi- 
ties, tied the ribbons like a girl and not like 
a boy, as she thought herself, went to sleep 
to dream of swimming the Hellespont to 
save Harry Prince from drowning. 

The day of the twenty-fifth dawned as 
fair as the fondest sportsman could desire. 
Even the early morning was breathlessly 
fair, and twenty boys, most lightly clad, 
dashed out from the dormitory and made 
a bold plunge into the lake at six o’clock on 
that momentous day. 

Twenty boys I had said ; but there were, 
to be accurate, twenty less two, for Sydney 
Norcross had been taken away, and Lewis 
Prince had an hour earlier taken his plunge, 
dressed himself in faultless regatta cos- 


138 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


tiime, and walked to the farther end of the 
island and back, and as the boys took their 
dip, was getting his muscle up by various 
exercises. 

I say. Prince, that is taking advantage,” 
called one of the boys from the water. 

The earth is free, the water and sun 
also ; I have n’t taken anything that did n’t 
belong to me,” the Prince answered, laugh- 
ingly. 

Why did n’t you wake us ? ” 

Nobody waked me; but I ’ll give you 
boys a chance. Rub yourselves down, then 
hurry up and have a pull before breakfast,” 
Lewis finally called, turning a hand-spring 
on the floating pier. With a wdld whoop 
the boys were out again, and in ten minutes 
the water was the scene of some lively exer- 
cise as the boats were brought out. Break- 
fast was of minor importance to the boys 
themselves, but their preceptors insisted 
that the regular eating should go on, or 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


139 


else no play. Dish-washing was despatched 
with scant ceremony, and the business of 
making ready for visitors set about. 

Improvised seats were arranged along the 
water front, and a platform for the judges, 
a select few, erected. This eminence was to 
be occupied by what was dignified as the 
faculty ” of Camp Chicopee and Little 
Neck, the ladies from the Cabin Island, and 
a few others from the lake summer colonies. 
The majority of the guests were expected 
to remain in their own boats on the lake, 
well out of the course. 

At ten o’clock promptly, the first delega- 
tion arrived, a boat-load of young girls and 
boys from Chicopee Hotel at the end of the 
lake ; then followed the crew from Little 
Neck, gorgeous in yellow and black. Not 
long after, a crowded steam-launch puffed 
up and left its passengers to find seats on 
the bank; then the little Worry ’’from 
Cabin Island came modestly to the landing, 


140 


NAX AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


rowed by Mr. Morton and Robbie, bearing 
Mrs. Ratcliffe and Marian. 

Nan’s little wherry was already in line, 
and she herself taut and trim in sailor rig 
in the pavilion with the boys, waiting their 
summons. 

At half past ten, Mr. Ratclife mounted 
the judges’ stand and read the order of the 
sports. 

I. Race : between picked crews of four boys, 
from Little Neck and Camp. 

II. Race : six single sculls, five camp boys and 
one camf girl. 

A loud cheer greeted the announcement. 

III. Luncheon. 

Afternoon : Christening and launching of the 
new catamaran, made by the boys of Camp 
Chicopee. 

Tennis. 

Evening : Dancing. 

At the fall of the flag Lewis’s picked 
crew took their boat out, followed by the 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


141 


Little Neck fellows. These boys were 
bigger and brawnier than Lewis’s crew, but 
looked, to the wise, clumsier. The camp 
boys looked young and inexperienced for a 
trial with them. Still Lewis had a master 
mind and arm, and he knew what he was 
about. A breath of admiration rose from 
the ladies as the handsome boy led out his 
crew, and there were but few pretty girls 
who were not ready to sing his praises, 
though pledged to the enemy. 

Is n’t he a dear?” 

What a regular stunner he will be when 
he ’s twenty ! ” 

A Prince ! See how he holds himself ! ” 

Bravo ! See their boat shoot ahead ! ” 

How lightly they handle her ! ” 

The Little Neck fellows are clumsy and 
too heavy.” 

They don’t pull in good form.” 

Oh, dear ! now they are taking it too 
easy.” 


142 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


The little fellows will win, for they are 
half over the course now.’’ 

There, Little Neck gains ! there they go 
ahead of the Prince ! ” 

No, they are taking wind, — they know 
what they are about.” 

See, the Prince rows smooth and clean ! ” 
Won’t he be a treasure on the ’Varsity, 
if he keeps it up ? ” 

Fifteen, did you say ? He looks seven- 
teen.” 

There they come round the curve, 
shooting ahead a whole length ! Bravo, for 
Prince ! ” 

Well done, boys ! ” 

These were the running sentiments ex- 
pressed in voices low and loud, but chiefly 
feminine. 

It was well done. Even Little Neck had 
to acknowledge that their crew had not 
practised enough, believing it too easy to 
beat Lewis’s crew. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


143 


The prize, then, gc^es to the camp. 
Prince’s crew for the Ratcliffe prize ! ” cried 
the judge, an impartial outsider. 

A little more chatter, no end of adulation 
for Lewis after he made his reappearance, 
well-groomed and beaming, showering his 
smiles and his thanks with princely lavish- 
ness. Then a lull, and the little wherries 
shot into view, rowed each by a single oars- 
man and one oarswoman. 

Nan would certainly not have been hu- 
manly feminine had her heart not beat 
wildly as she pulled her little wherry into 
line with the five boys, and as the shouts 
grew louder and more confusing, her cour- 
age almost gave out. 

Marshall Whittemore, an excellent oars- 
man, was next in position, and under cover 
of the noise, leaned forward to encourage 
her : — 

Don’t think of the people, Nan, keep 
your eyes on my bow ; we ’ll pull together.” 


144 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Nan gave him 9, grateful look and pulled 
a strong oar, keeping Marsh’s bow not 
only in sight but beside her. The others 
shot ahead, and for three minutes Nan 
thought she had no chance. The boys 
seemed not to care a whit for the crowd. 
The course was a half-mile course, and 
before it was half done, she had forgotten 
the crowd and was thinking only of Mar- 
shall’s boat. 

The others began to lag, thinking it girls’ 
play, and that it would be easy enough to 
come in at the end. Nan’s spirit was 
aroused by this. Marshall saw the fire, was 
spurred into greater effort, and shot beyond 
the others. Nan leading them all. Marshall 
saw that he could easily distance her, but 
the others were left behind and had fallen 
out of stroke. 

Shall I gain on her, or let her go in ? 
Let her win ! I shall hate myself if I beat 
her, and she will hate me, if she wins, 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 145 

knowing I might have done so easily 
enough/' thought Marshall. 

The boy’s thinking at this time was rapid, 
more feeling than thinking, for there were 
but four boat-lengths to be gained, and he 
had let Nan’s boat shoot half a length ahead. 
The girl was pale and intent, and Marshall 
glanced at her with a queer look in his 
eyes. 

I can’t take it from her, the race shall 
be hers. Guess I ’ll play sick, that ’s the 
best way out of it, then she won’t mistrust I 
gave her the race ” 

After this Marshall apparently gave up 
the race, and Nan went in with but little ef- 
fort, the others following in straggling order. 

Hurrah ! Hi ! Ki ! Yah ! Nan ’s ahead ! ’’ 
yelled the little fellows, throwing up their 
caps, as she reached the goal. As she 
landed, they bore her off triumphantly, the 
older boys more consciously beaten, sulking 
a little in the rear. 


0 


10 


146 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


To Nan, however, the triumph was not 
quite as enjoyable as she thought it would 
be ; for in the depths of her heart she had 
the feeling that Marshall’s sickness had been 
feigned, because he would not take advantage 
of her as a girl. Instead, however, of hat- 
ing him for it, she began to dislike her own 
part in the contest. 

‘^It’s no use, they can’t forget that I am 
a girl. I shall never be a boy to them. 
They will always treat me differently. I 
suppose I must make up my mind to that. 
I will take the first chance to tell Marsh 
what I think.” 

The opportunity did not, however, come 
very soon, for Marshall was busy with the 
yacht racing, and when the lunch-hour 
came. Nan had her own duties of hospitality 
to perform. As a rule. Nan was not at her 
ease with her own sex, and the fashionable 
visitors from the hotels at the upper end of 
the lake, added much to the annoyance she 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


147 


had experienced over her questionable vic- 
tory. The gay girls who sought to coquette 
with the older boys exasperated her to a dis- 
agreeable extreme, and the flattering and 
fond mammas who, while gushing over her 
own athletic prowess, in their secret hearts 
congratulated themselves that their girls 
were more ladylike, — one and all offended 
our Nan so much to-day that she felt herself 
bristling like a porcupine. 

She had always been able to escape 
from the attentions of both mammas and 
daughters in previous years and to lose her- 
self in the numbers of boys, but to-day, the 
boys deserted the pavilion as soon as lunch- 
eon, and disappeared mysteriously in the 
direction of the launch. 

Little did Nan herself know of the sur- 
prise which was in store for her, as, battling 
with her inclination to be pudgiky,’’ as she 
used to call her rebellious moods when a 
child, and a sense of obligation to her 


148 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


mother and sister who were scattering gra- 
ciousness and comfort without stint, she 
endeavored to comport herself with some 
show of modesty and grace. 

Poor Nan ! if she could only have looked 
through the trees to the rise on the shore 
where the boys were joyously raising the 
precious head to its place in the prow ! But 
not a suspicion of this crowning act of devo- 
tion to the Little Lady of the Lake ’'had 
entered her head, and as the bell sounded, 
which signalled the hour of the launch, and 
Nan found herself pressed on either side by 
rustling skirts and broad leghorn hats, gay 
with flowers, she longed to be one of the 
boys in truth. 

They were not silly girls either; and if 
Nan had brought her own good sense and 
heart to bear upon her relation with them, 
she might have found they had many good 
points, and w^ere only foolish skin-deep, as it 
were. But as her own brusqueness was but 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


149 


skin-deep^ they, too, failed to understand 
her. 

“ Do tell us about the new boat,” asked 
one of the girls, Marshall’s own cousin, as 
they walked through the woods to the 
shore. 

There is n’t much to tell,” said Nan, 
for you will see it right away.” 

The girls looked at each other. 

What a long story they could have made 
of the building of that catamaran, of Lewis’s 
cleverness and wealth, and all the fancy 
woven about it as the ship of the Argonauts, 
the boat in which they were to explore the 
waters beyond the head of the lake. But 
Nan did not know the schoolgirl art of spin- 
ning a wonderful tale with embellishment of 
adjective and interjection. To herself, her 
answer was sufficient and satisfactory, and 
the two girls wondered how their cousins, 
the Whittemore boys, could find so much to 
admire in this brusque Nan llatcliEe. 


150 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Soon the boat was in sight, the queer, 
fantastic, twin keel structure, and raised 
above it the triangular deck and body, and 
between the keels, at the apex of the tri- 
angle, the carved cedar head, bearing the 
impress of Nan’s well known and loved 
lineaments. The curve of her chin and 
cheek, the tilt of her nose and the arch of 
her brow ; and there, surmounting it like a 
halo in letters of gilt, her own beloved 
title : — 

‘‘Our Little Lady of the Lake.’’ 

Yet they all saw it before Nan herself, 
and the voices that cried “ Hi ! Ki ! Yah ! ” 
seemed to dull her sensibilities for the 
moment, till her mother’s arm was about 
her and her mother’s voice saying encour- 
agingly, — 

“Don’t disappoint the boys, dear. See 
what they have done for you. The head 
was Lewis’s own design.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


151 


Heedless of the crowd then, and the 
clamor, Nan rushed into their midst, and 
was thanking them all, with her heart in 
her eyes, — thanking them as only Nan 
could, when she w^as one of themselves and 
knew that all this was no empty praise 
and compliment, but only one more plea 
for her help and guidance, and realizing 
that because she was a girl and not a 
boy, she could help them all, she proudly 
christened : — 

Our Little Lady of the Lake.” 

Exactly how the afternoon passed. Nan 
could hardly remember ; how she played 
through the tennis tournament and won the 
ladies’ single,” and lost in the doubles 
because of that stupid Philadelphia girl’s 
^‘foul,” all were but confused impressions, 
mingled with her pride and happiness in the 
boys’ success ; for the catamaran made a 
beautiful run to the head of the lake, and 


152 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


every one was loud in its praises. The 
afternoon passed in one long series of joyful 
triumphs for the boys, and when evening 
came, the pavilion' was gorgeous with 
Chinese lanterns, and on the raised platform 
were the fiddlers three ” from the village, 
whose music, if not classical, was contagious 
in its rhythm and merriment. Everybody 
was in the gayest mood. 

Nan, who so seldom, except in masquer- 
ading, had any opportunity to wear other 
clothes than rough-and-ready ones, seemed 
to the boys a very much transformed person 
in a wonderfully bef rilled muslin. Nan was 
a little in awe of herself in dress up,’' and 
somewhat self-conscious in the light garb of 
fashion, which the city girls carried with 
such ease, and was glad to be able to forget 
herself in the jolly figures of a familiar reel 
or lancers. 

The boys themselves were allowed no full 
dress at camp. For them a lighter knicker- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


153 


bocker and stiff shirt were the only change 
from corduroys and flannels ; but they were 
a handsome . set of fellows, big and little, 
bronzed and brawny, and fell as easily into 
the dancing as though it had been their 
nightly habit all the summer weeks. 

Nan did not forget that she had a word 
to say to Marshall, and when he came to 
claim her for a dance saw her opportunity. 

Marshall was one of the senior camp boys, 
having begun his life at the lake, when, a 
delicate lad of twelve, he was sent up to 
Mr. Ratcliffe to be toned up for one summer, 
and had returned year after year, though it 
was long since his physique had shown signs 
of delicacy. There he had gained strength 
and suppleness, and he loved the camp and 
cared nothing for the gay fashionable resorts 
frequented by his mother and sisters. He 
was one of those plain-featured boys, who 
depend upon a good figure and intelligence 
for their claims to good looks. Somewhat 


154 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


freckled, with light gray, heavy-lashed eyes, 
an ample mouth which an incipient mus- 
tache but served to outline, Marshall’s 
face would never be his passport to the 
favor of the fair sex. But his dexterous 
hand, easy carriage, broad shoulders, kindly 
manners, and clever tongue made him a 
favorite. 

He had always treated Nan as a big 
brother would, until this summer, when, con- 
scious either of his freshman dignity, or of 
Nan’s budding maturity and attractiveness, 
his manner toward her had partaken of an 
odd mixture of gallantry and sentimental 
familiarity, entirely new to Nan in her asso- 
ciation with the boys. 

He had even on this very evening called 
her ‘‘ Miss Nan,” much to her surprise and 
disgust, giving her an unpleasant conscious- 
ness of her false position in the regatta. 
When in the pauses of the quadrille Marshall 
had ventured to remark that she was very 


NAN AT CAMP CniCOPEE. 


155 


pretty, poor Nan’s amazement knew no 
bounds. 

Marshall, what have I done, or what is 
the matter with you that you should treat 
me so to-night ? I begin to think you are 
angry with me for taking the race. And 
after all. Marsh, you gave me the race. 
You could have come in easily enough. I 
wish you had. I wanted fair play and no 
vantage. At any rate I have learned a 
good lesson, and I won’t try for honors with 
you boys again, unless you will all swear to 
treat me just as though I were a boy.” 

Nan’s cheeks were flaming and she 
stamped her foot imperiously. Marshall 
colored, thereby causing his freckled coun- 
tenance to assume a mahogany hue, and his 
confusion at having his ruse thus baldly 
presented baffled for the time his usual com- 
posure, and he was glad of the interruption 
which the ladies’ grand chain gave to the 
tete-a-tete. He was forced into some expla- 


156 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


nation it was quite evident, for Nan was 
not going to accept the feigned sickness, 
however much he had deceived the judges. 
He was only half ready for Nan as she 
came back, and he stammered : — 

I don’t know what you mean, truly ; I 
am not in the least angry. Why should I 
be ? How have I treated you differently ? 
I am sure I wanted you to have the race, 
and you pulled splendidly. You did de- 
serve it.’* 

Nan was not the girl to take the coin of 
compliment for truth, and turning an un- 
compromising glance upon him, asked : — 
Honest and true, Marshall, you were n’t 
sick, and you gave me the race outright ? ” 

I was n’t really sick, but I was very 
tired,” said Marshall in a shambling way 
utterly unlike him. 

Tired, oh, Marshall, tired ? If I had 
been a boy, would you have let me go in 
ahead, because you were tired ? ” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 157 

Perhaps not, but then you were not a 
boy.’’ 

‘^That’s just it. Well, I suppose I will 
have to own up that 1 exposed myself to 
that when I went in. It was very kind of 
you, though, but I mean you to take the 
prize. I’ll never touch it.” 

Oh, Nan, that is punishing me more 
than I deserve. After all you pushed me 
to owning up, and I did not win the race 
any way, and have n’t any claim on the 
prize. Now let ’s be friends. You look 
real mad. You know I may not come back 
next summer, for just as likely as not, I 
will have to tutor all summer, I am such a 
lunkhead at my books. At least you won’t 
spoil my last regatta for me,” said Marshall, 
irresistibly. 

I should think I had done that already. 
I want to undo what I have done. At 
least you must take the prize as a souvenir 
of Chicopee.” 


158 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


“ I would much rather take your friend- 
ship. We have been playfellows for five 
years. Let's not quarrel because we are 
growing up. I promise not to tell you again 
that you look pretty till you go to your 
first ball, nor to call you Miss Nan till you 
go to college, if you will let the prize stand 
as it is.” 

Nan laughed. 

“ I think that a foolish bargain. Of 
course you won’t call me ^ Miss Nan,’ be- 
cause I don’t want you to ; and as for the 
ball, I shall never have the chance to go to 
a ball. As to college, I am afraid that is 
only a castle in the air too.” 

All happiness to him who knows how to 
wait. You will go to college and beat us 
fellows at classics and sciences 3 ^et.” 

Oh, 1 ’ll never beat any of you except 
by a fluke like to-day.” 

Yes, you will. Your head is better 
than most of ours, if your muscles are n’t. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


159 


Here ’s your next partner, Prince Charming. 
Come, is it peace or war ? 

Peace,” and Nan gave him her hand as 
she went off with Lewis. 

Though a year her junior, Lewis was as 
tall as Nan, and they were fair to look upon 
as they joined the dancers. Lewis was 
radiant with success and satisfied vanity, 
and bubbling with good spirits. 

“ What were you and Marsh squabbling 
about Nan ? — such a glorious time as this. 
You both looked daggers at each other a 
minute ago.” 

Secret,” said Nan, laughing. 

Oh, I ’ll find out,” said Lewis ; Marsh 
lost the prize and was mad I suppose. I 
knew you ’d get it. Was n’t it fine to win 
though ? ” 

I am not so awfully puffed up after all, 
Lewis,” said Nan, humbly. Did the race 
look quite fair to you ? ” 

Why not fair? Marshall' just gave 


160 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


out ; guess he ’d been smoking. If a fellow 
can’t keep up till he gets the goal, then he 
has to lose the race. You surely don’t think 
he deserves the prize ?” 

I ’m not so sure that he does n’t.” 

Well, don’t be a goose. Nan. Take all 
the glory you can get. It ’s my motto.” 

Feeling that Marshall might not like too 
much made of his generosity, and knowing 
Lewis to be anything but reticent. Nan 
dropped the subject, but did a good deal of 
thinking about it all the rest of the evening, 
and when she was safe under her mother’s 
wing at night, she poured out her troubles 
to this best friend. 

Mamma, do you know, Marshall gave 
me the race, and I want him to have the 
prize.” 

Now mothers, like Cupid, are often blind 
where their children are concerned, and 
Mrs. Eatcliffe had had a single eye that 
day to Nan’s health, strength, beauty and 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


161 


prowess. That she had rowed well she 
could have no doubt, that she had won 
the race by superiority and not favor seemed 
very clear to the partial mother eye, and in 
a measure. Nan’s sudden announcement was 
a downfall of a justifiable pride. 

Why, daughter, you rowed beautifully ; 
we were all so proud of you. I was sorry 
Marshall gave out. Herbert thinks he must 
have been smoking cigarettes. I do not 
think he meant to give you the race. I am 
sure papa did not tliink so, nor the other 
judges. The race was clearly yours.” 

Now, mamma, that was very unjust of 
Herbert, for Marsh has n’t touched a ciga- 
rette for weeks. I shall tell him and papa 
just how it was. Marshall led me ahead of 
the others, encouraging me from the start, 
and would not go in, when he could, but 
just let me take the race.” 

Why should Marshall give you the race, 
dear ? ” 


11 


162 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Oil, because I ’m a girl, don’t you see, 
and he thought it would be mean to take 
advantage.” 

Nan said this in an excited tone, which 
brought in sister Marian, who took in the 
situation and said : — 

So, Nan, you and Marshall have had a 
quarrel over the race. I knew there would 
be some trouble when you went in. It is 
time you were a little more grown up. Nan. 
You must n’t expect to play with boys all 
your life.” 

That was sister Marian’s view. A qinet 
domestic girl, always fond of home-keeping 
occupations, she had never been able to 
follow Nan in her freedom and out-door 
happiness in the camp life. She was just 
now a great help to her mother, though 
both parents looked to Nan as the one who 
would make more stir in the world, and felt 
that though her life might not be as peace- 
ful as Marian’s, it would broaden in the end 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


163 


into the wider paths opening to woman in 
the great world. “ 

To Marian, a girl’s life was one of trifles ; 
the dusting and darning, the tying-up of 
winter woollens and preserving, were events 
of greatest importance to her, and she had 
no need of idealizing even these pursuits. 

But she was sweet and placid in her 
disposition, never fretting about the unat- 
tainable, and Herbert Morton’s hearth would 
always be well swept and garnished. 

It was a grief to Marian, it would be 
better to say, an annoyance to her, that 
Nan cared so little for her clothes, so much 
for her boat and the boys’ sports. 

As a matter of fact. Nan had no girl 
companions to develop the feminine side of 
her nature, and she took sister Marian’s 
aspersions very ill, so that the good mother 
had to make peace between them before 
there was any sleep. 

Now, now, children, this is not a good 


164 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


way to close a pleasant day. Nan^ you 
rowed well ; papa was pleased and proud. 
Marian, dear, another year will be time 
enough for us to make a young lady of our 
tomboy. We don’t want to lose her yet, 
and there is no need to put false notions 
into her head, and make a young lady of 
her.” 

So Nan went off to sleep a little soothed, 
but Marian and her mother had a little 
more conversation in their own room. 

Mother,” said Marian, wise in her own 
experience, Marshall is really very fond of 
Nan. Herbert spoke of it to me, and said 
it was no wonder, for she looked so pretty 
to-night. She is really growing up too 
fast to be allowed to play with boys so 
familiarly. Marshall is seventeen, almost 
eighteen.” 

Oh, Marian, what nonsense ! My dear, 
because you and Herbert happen to be in 
love, you must not spoil our little girl by 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


165 


such sentiment. She ’s only a child. The 
summer is almost gone, and another year 
Marshall may not come back, and Nan ! ” 
Have you said anything of Mrs. Prince’s 
plan ? ” 

No, I thought I would wait till the 
sports were over. I don’t see how I can 
spare you both, but your father favors it.” 


CHAPTER X. 


nan’s futuke. 

OU don’t know one useful thing in 



JL this ’varsal world,’ like Di Yernon, 
Nan,” said Mr. Ratcliffe quizzically, a few 
days after the sports, waving a letter tempt- 
ingly just out of reach. ^^You don’t dust 
nor darn, and your pies are n’t fit to eat. 
You can make the best coffee, though, on a 
picnic, and when 

^ Pain and anguisk wring the brow 
A ministering angel thou,’ 

for you have a knack for nursing quite 
extraordinary, my daughter. Still, Marian 
says you are not useful and don’t know any- 
thing systematically. Now, is Marian right, 
or a certain lady who has written me this let- 
ter all on one subject, my daughter Nan? ” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


167 


Nan laughed, though dying with curiosity, 
and pretended to be very well satisfied with 
the prima facie evidence that the letter was 
from Mrs. Prince. 

I know Mrs. Prince’s black-bordered, 
violet-scented paper, papa, and the French 
stamp gives part of your secret away. But 
what does she say that provokes Marian to 
cataloguing my imperfections ? She ought 
to know that Di Vernon is my heroine. I ’d 
much rather be that same Diana than any 
goody-goody girl out of Miss Edgeworth’s 
books.” 

“Eh, oh! so sets the wind, — then you 
don’t want to know any more of this let- 
ter than that it is from Mrs. Prince, and 
I can keep a great project of my own a 
secret.” 

Papa tantalizingly put the letter back. 

Something wild shot across Nan’s brain, 
a fleeting, almost too delightful vision of 
realized hopes. 


168 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Oh, papa, am I to go abroad with the 
boys?’’ 

“ Not quite, my lassie ; guess again. You 
are quite warm, almost burning as the game 
goes.” 

Then I am to go to spend the winter 
with them and go to school.” 

‘^Exactly, little Yankee, you have it. 
What do you want to learn ? French frills, 
dancing and music and be a fine young lady, 
have tutors and masters, or take up some- 
thing serious ? ” 

What may I do ? Does Mrs. Prince 
give me my choice ? ” 

Well, here is the letter.” 

Paris, August 1st, 189-. 

My dear Mrs. Ratcliffe : — I write before 
sailing for home, to ask a great favor, and hope 
that by the time I reach Chicopee, you will have 
your answer ready for me. 

I want Nan, dear friend. It is almost too 
selfish of me to ask you for lier, just when you 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


169 


are losing Marian, and I should not do it, unless 
I could offer her something which you, perhaps, 
are not quite ready to give her, that opportunity 
for study which she can have so advantageously 
with us, in the city of schools and churches. She 
can take what lessons she likes, music, French, 
dancing, ologies, anything which she desires to 
realize her possibilities. She is so clever she 
should have the best of opportunities. 

For us she would fill a great want. I have no 
daughters, my boys no sisters. They are grow- 
ing away from me in their boyish pursuits, and 
she would give me companionship and an object 
for feminine fancies as well. Lewis needs Nan’s 
sterling sense too, and she should have the bene- 
fit of his private teachers, or she shall go to the 
best and most fashionable school in the city. 
She should be dressed entirely without your 
thought, and I should take pleasure in gratifying 
my own selfish whim, without spoiling the dear 
girl’s sensible mind. Don’t talk of obligation. 
There can be none, unless on my part, for Nan 
herself has done more for my boys than I can 
ever repay. So let her come to me, at least for 
this winter, and if you can spare her next sum- 
mer, we will plan again. I won’t take no for an 


170 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


answer, and neither will the boys, who will clamor 
and give you no peace until Nan is ours. 

So do be good to 

Your sincere friend, 

Hortense D. Prince. 

Long before Nan had finished reading the 
letter her father’s and mother’s eyes were 
brimming full of tears, and when she laid 
the letter down she threw her arms about 
her mother’s neck, and cried half for joy 
and half for sorrow. 

I don’t know what to say, mamma. I 
want to go, but can you spare me ? ” 

Yes, dear ; we think it is for your 
advantage, and have decided to accept Mrs. 
Prince’s offer, if you are willing to go,” 
said Mrs. Ratcliffe, falteringly, as a sob 
choked her voice. She looked to her hus- 
band to encourage Nan. 

‘‘ Think what you will know, when you 
come back to us, dear. Shall it be French 
and frills, or sciences and ologies ? ” her 
father asked jocosely. 


AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


171 


I will think about that later, papa. 
Just now I can only think of leaving you 
and mamma, but I don’t believe it will be 
French and dancing. Certainly they will 
not be useful to me or make me helpful to 
you. I want to learn something practical.” 

It was a very thoughtful Nan who went 
about the lake for the next few days, almost 
always alone, rowing her boat or sitting on 
the shore skipping pebbles. She was the 
target for a good deal of playful raillery on 
the part of the boys, whose society she 
seemed to eschew, and some of them dared 
to call out in passing : — 

Maiden meditation, fancy free.’^ 

But Nan maintained a moody silence till 
one day, Marshall, sailing his catboat on 
the quiet side of the island spied a small 
row-boat apparently unguided, drifting lee- 
ward. On near inspection he discovered 
Nan lying flat in the boat, her head pillowed 
on her arms, deep in thought. 


172 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Halloo, there, Nan ! tired of life or row- 
ing ? Come into my boat and sail in, and 
I’ll lend you my pea-jacket and you can 
take a comfortable nap.” 

No, thanks ! I ’m all right. Have some- 
thing on my mind,” Nan answered briefly. 

Should say so ; does n’t agree with you 
to have something on your mind. I ’d 
throw it overboard and enjoy life once more. 
Can’t I relieve you? My mind never has 
too much ballast. Anyway, it ’s odd to see 
you moping.” 

While firing these shot, Marshall had 
drawn the little boat up and fastened it in 
tow with his own, so that Nan had nothing 
to do but listen. 

Hope it ’s not that unlucky race. It ’s 
hardly worth a thought, much less four days 
of melancholy.” 

Nan had insisted upon placing Marshall 
right before her father and the boys, for her 
sense of justice would not brook the sus- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 173 

picion of smoking which had attached itself 
to Marshall on his failure to win. Lest 
he should imagine that she was really 
brooding over the race, Nan decided to take 
him into her confidence. 

am trying to make up my mind to 
leave the lake, the country, and papa, 
mamma, and Kobbie, and go to Brooklyn to 
spend this year in study. You can’t know 
how tormented I am with conflicting desires. 
I thought I wanted nothing so much in the 
world as the chance to go, but now that it 
is mine to take or refuse, it seems as though 
I could not leave this place for the city. 
Every hour I think of something I can’t 
bear to leave. Now it ’s the lake, again it ’s 
the view of Mt. Washington from my win- 
dow at home ; then I think of the nutting 
and the coasting on winter nights, and I 
hear the ice crackling and the whizzing of 
my ^Leader’ down the hill. You can’t 
think how I love it. I love to be free in the 


174 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


air and on the broad country fields to ride 
and to walk over the piles of autumn leaves, 
and yet for the last two years I have 
dreamed of this chance to study and make 
something useful of myself. I wish this 
path of learning did n’t lie through city 
streets. Something chokes me here, when I 
think of the high brick walls> and the people 
crowding and pushing.” 

As she sat up in her boat, her hair tossed 
in tendrils by the breeze, her round, white 
throat which had been loosely bound by a 
silk handkerchief, bared to the winds, it 
seemed to Marshall that the city life would 
be more beautiful for Lewis Prince, with this 
radiant girl in his house, but he wisely kept 
silent, and Nan continued : — 

But I am going — only I must drink my 
fill of all that I love here so that I shall not 
be thirsty for it for months. Then another 
thing which is troubling me, is that I. want 
to make up my mind w^hat I am going to be 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


175 


in the future, when I grow up. I can’t 
waste my time on mere accomplishments. 
I must study to some purpose, so that I can 
be of use to my father and mother. In a 
few years papa will not have the nerve to 
manage so many boys. Even this summer 
he has been a good deal tired and nervous.” 

This was more than Marshall could bear 
without interrupting, and he said : — 

^‘Come, Nan, you have brooded over all 
this till you have magnified molehills into 
mountains. You are n’t going to carry the 
burdens of a whole family on your shoulders 
at your age. Your father is not an old man 
and he is growing tougher and stronger 
every year up here. The best thing you 
can do is to make the most of your chances. 
Study what you have the taste for and trust 
to circumstances to show you what you will 
do by and by. So you are to go to Mrs. 
Prince ? ” 

Yes,” said Nan, her heart lightened by 


176 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Marshall’s wholesome advice. Mrs. Prince 
has sent me a most generous invitation for 
this year and probably next, and then papa 
thinks I may be ready for college.” 

Well, the best thing for you to do is to 
make the best of it. Bottle up a few sun- 
sets, take a piece of pink cretonne around 
with you, like one of those aesthetic cranks 
in London, a pine pillow, and a little new- 
mown hay in your top drawer will give you 
a sense of country life to help you along 
over your homesickness. As for Mt. Wash- 
ington, he’s a fine old fellow in summer, 
but. Great Scott! I’d as lief be several 
hundred miles south of his snow-crest in 
January as not. You don’t know what 
white snow they have over in Brooklyn, 
and plenty of wind, too, whistling round 
your ears. They are awfully blue over 
there, too, most as bad as Boston, no end of 
lectures and improvement associations. Oh, 
you ’ll be as wise as Minerva after two years 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


177 


in Brooklyn. Good-bye to frolics then, so 
just make the most of what ’s left of our 
Nan. Another year and we will be having 
‘ Miss Anna.’ ” ‘ 

Now, that ’s too bad, Marshall. You 
almost broke your promise.” 

So I did, but a truce. It ’s an ill wind 
that blows nobody good. You’ll see the 
Thanksgiving foot-ball game, and go a-top 
of our coach, perhaps.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


nan’s birthday. 

O NE of those August days, Nan woke to 
find herself not famous but sixteen. 

It was a day which, for months, had 
loomed above all other days, a sort of Mt. 
Washington in her highdays and holidays. 
As a little girl of twelve, she had often been 
inspired to date her age, with obliteration of 
the years between, forward to that great 
far-away birthday. In four more years I 
will be sixteen,” and then it became, in 
three more years,” and in two,” until as it 
grew nearer, that important day seemed still 
more mysterious. At last it was really here, 
and the sun himself seemed happy for her, 
as he danced in at her little east window. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


179 


The waves on her beloved lake shore seemed 
to babble of bright days all to be like this. 
The far and near hills blushed with joy in 
the fair dawn as Nan sprang lightly out of 
bed, lest she disturb the household before 
she herself was free from meditation and 
ready to be disturbed. Nan had retired 
very early the night before, with the Pur- 
itan conscience of her ancestors, observing 
the Sabbath on Saturday evening, to com- 
mune once more for the last time with her 
fifteen-year-old self. 

It was a very sacred task, quite new in a 
way to energetic Nan, usually too busy for 
meditation, and as she rose that August 
morning, her busy fancy saw for one minute 
a fleeting vision of a little girl with tawny 
locks vanish into space. Her own fifteen- 
year-old self looked back and smiled half 
sadly, half gladly, with regret and yet a 
promise. Nan stretched out her hand to 
grasp the vision but it was gone. My 


180 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


own old self ! Corae back ! ” she called, half 
playfully, and yet plaintively. 

Will she remember me, should we meet 
again at eighteen or yet at twenty-one ? 
Would we have a speaking acquaintance ? 
Oh dear, I wish I might have tied a ribbon 
about her neck or set a strawberry mark on 
her left arm so that I might know her again, 
but now she has gone, and I may never see 
her again. It shall not be so with my six- 
teen-year-old self. This minute, this very 
minute, will I sit down, and write out a 
description of myself as a passport to the 
acquaintance of my future selves. Then, 
when I am seventeen and eighteen there will 
be no excuse for not recognizing this chrysalis 
self, even if it does seem a baby grub. I 
will do it at once before any one is stirring.” 

Sixteen Years to Eighteen Years. 

Dear old Eighteen Nan, — I got the start of 
you. You may think you are old, but you don’t 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


181 


feel half as old as I do. Sixteen is an age of 
great responsibility. You feel it all over. The 
top of your head feels it first, and the hair seems 
to bristle to go up, and the gray matter of your 
brain that has been rose-color is beginning to turn 
blue in preparation for growing into the solid 
gray matter that works on the wisdom-teeth first 
and then on the rest of the body. 

Then there is the question of long skirts or 
short skirts, and high heels or low ones, and, old 
Eighteen, you have got used to all these difficul- 
ties, and take them as a matter of course, but I 
can tell you it is no joke to settle them for your- 
self, as I have to with a great show of independ- 
ence, when there is your sister Marian always 
ready with a wet blanket to throw over your no- 
tions of dress reform. And then, Eighteen, there 
are the boys ! Those boys are the light of my 
eyes, and I would rather be one of them than the 
belle of Newport decked out with all the gewgaws 
of fashion. 

No doubt. Eighteen, you prefer gewgaws. Such 
is your sense. You will turn up your nose at 
your sixteen-year-old self, but you have got to 
recognize her good points. To begin with. 
Eighteen, I can almost turn myself around in my 


182 


AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


clothes, like Munchausen’s horse that turned 
himself hindside before in his harness. Now, old 
Eighteen, you can’t do that. Then there are iny 
boots over there in the corner ; you won’t be 
able to see them because they will be worn out by 
the time you get along. Rob says, as three feet 
make a yard, I have to buy my feet by the yard, 
for they are long enough and broad enough for 
a square yard. Well, they are meant for walk- 
ing, tramping, not mincing along like a Chinese 
high-class maiden. And there are my hats. 
There are four of them, — one hangs on each 
corner of my bed. That one at the northwest 
corner in its best estate was a hammock hat, and 
it still retains some of its pristine elegance, de- 
spite three rows of flies and no end of hooks. 
That hat knows all the secrets of the deep ; trout, 
perch, bass, and pickerel, all fear it. Then that 
somewhat-the-worse-for-wear tain o’shanter is the 
joy of my life. It has no set ways, but will stay 
just anywhere it is put, over my left ear, or over 
my right ear, on the back of my head, or the tip 
of my nose, although this last position is kept by 
my white yachting cap, that rather boyish-looking 
object at the northeast. That was really 
Lewis’s, and consequently has a dandyish air. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


183 


He outgrew it before lie wore it out and gave it 
to me as a philopena. That object at the south- 
east corner covered with a large pocket-handker- 
chief is my this year’s sailor. Marian bought it 
in Boston, so it is very correct as to its crown 
and brim and I never wear it if I can help it. It 
is needless to say Marian covers it so it won’t get 
spoiled by moth and rust, for she says if I will 
set my hats up in sight like the saints of Louis 
Eleventh, she is going to preserve one in Puritan 
decency. 

There, old Eighteen, will you dare say that you 
won’t know me, when you have so good a descrip- 
tion of my favorite articles of dress ? As to my 
dresses, you will blush for shame over them and 
think of me as a poor relation. Over there in the 
corner is my wardrobe on six hooks, and covered 
with a calico curtain. There is my old blue serge 
for every day, my new red serge for best, my 
dark blue duck for warm days, and my white 
duck for Sundays. Yery much like a boy’s ward- 
robe, only my clothes have to be made with 
skirts, — more ’s the pity ! I hate frills, but 
mother made me wear a white muslin to the re- 
gatta dance, and I had to confess that I felt more 
comfortable in it where there were other girls. 


184 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Can you get your wardrobe into such a compact 
space, old Eighteen ? 

Well, now for the old girl herself ! Here she 
is ! Big teeth ! They always seem to have been 
big ever since I pulled out the first dear little 
white ones with a string tied around the door 
handle. Mother said I would grow to them, but 
I haven’t though I am five feet five, tall enough 
for sixteen. I hope, old Eighteen, you won’t be 
two inches bigger. Think what a giantess you 
will be ! five feet seven ! Then my hair is mo- 
lasses candy just streaked like that, half-pulled 
and twisted ! My eyes, well, they are just like 
yours, so I guess you will know them. My 
mouth is large, — has to be to cover those teeth, 
but it is not so bad, I believe. As to my nose ; 
in summer it is generally dusted with freckles or 
powdered with whitish scales of burnt skin, just 
like the boys’. It is a badge of camp life. Can’t 
help it unless I make a slave of myself to oint- 
ments, cold cream, or sour milk. 

No doubt, your nose. Eighteen, is quite perfec- 
tion, but you won’t have half so good a time, for 
you wdll spend so many hours taking care of it, 
that you’ll never go rowing or sailing without a 
veil and a shade hat. Poor thing ! I am sure you 
are quite miserable ! 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


185 


Well, now there is the shell. No doubt, you 
are quite ashamed of me. My manners are 
shockingly bad, though papa says my heart is all 
right. I am generally obedient, but Marian says 
I always have my own way. I have several ab- 
sorbing interests, — the boys, my boat, and my 
violin. I don’t read much in the summer time, 
but in the winter I read all the books I can find. 
My favorite books, old Eighteen, I suppose you 
will despise for you are probably reading every- 
thing I can’t bear. I have not half finished my 
letter of introduction to you, but I guess you will 
know me, however, and I won’t let you cut my 
acquaintance. 

You detestable creature, I am sure the boys 
won’t like you half as well as they do me, and 
life won’t be half as full of fun for you as for 
Your sixteen-year-old self. 

Nan. 

, Having written this remarkable letter to 
her future self, Nan folded it carefully, took 
from a safe corner a little old writing-desk, 
which having belonged to Aunt Anne, had 
been given to her as a namesake, unlocked 


186 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


it with pride in its key which turned upon 
all her few treasures that were now to be 
enriched by this precious document. A 
small fragment of ancient sealing wax, and 
a small seal bearing the letter R,” lay in 
one small compartment of the desk, and 
seemed to await this dedication, for since it 
had come into Nan’s possession it had never 
been used, as Nan was not like Marian, a 
sentimental letter-writing girl, and she 
would have scorned to seal a letter written 
to the boys, who were her chief correspond- 
ents. But to a young lady of eighteen, so 
important a letter as this could be most 
properly sealed ; so with great ceremony 
she lighted her small candle, burnt her fin- 
gers with the wax a few times, and finally 
succeeded in dropping a seal as large as the 
royal signet on her precious missive, then 
laid it carefully away, locked her desk once 
more, and proceeded to dress hastily. 

There ’s one resolution broken, T fear. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


187 


for I was to dress with great care after I 
was sixteen/' said Nan, taking down from 
her looking-glass a long, narrow strip of 
cardboard on which were written care- 
fully sixteen resolutions, numbered system- 
atically. 

Resolved^ 

1 That I will be more careful in dressing. 

2 That I will be more patient with Marian. 

3 That I will try to like sewing. 

4 That I will help mother more. 

5 That I will be more generous to Marshall. 

6 That I will be more helpful to Lewis. 

7 That I will give up wishing for a bicycle, since 
father cannot afford it. 

8 That I will stay at home from the tramp this 
year if mother objects to my going. 

9 That I will teach Sheldon to tell the truth by 
love, not fear. 

10 That I will make Harry less of a coward by 
telling him of brave deeds. 

11 That I will be less conceited. 

12 That I will cultivate my manners, as well as 

my muscles. 


188 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


13 That I will try not to waste my time on the 

lake too much. 

14 That I will make up for all the time I waste 
by hard study next winter. 

15 That 1 will be gentle with Robbie. 

16 That I will not forget to say my prayers in 

the morning. 

Having read these over, Nan knelt down 
and said her prayers, then went down stairs 
and appeared in the kitchen with a bright 
^^Good morning, mamma. I am going to 
help you get breakfast.” 

A very good birthday resolution, my 
daughter,” said her mother kissing her, 
and one which I will not spoil by 
refusing.” 

Nan had told the family that she wished 
no birthday presents this year. As Marian 
was to be married next month, the paternal 
pocketbook would suffer draft enough, so 
that she had no expectation of any gifts 
when they all gathered at the table with 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


189 


greetings for the sixteen-year-old daughter 
and sister ; but Rob looked wise and papa 
pleased as he said : — 

No presents, dear, you know ; a few 
birthday cards from the boys by and by.” 

But to the boys. Nan’s birthday was one 
of the red-letter days of the summer, not to 
be dimmed in its glory by any wedding 
preparations, and at nine o’ clock a long 
file of irrepressible youths wound their 
way up the path to the cabin to pay their 
respects and present their offerings. 

Nan had enjoyed these birthday greetings, 
but there had been very little variation in 
them for the past three years, each boy 
giving her a book, in uniform covers, com- 
prising often a whole set of some favorite 
author, beginning with Miss Alcott and 
ending with Dickens. 

To-day, however, there was a decided 
change in the aspect of affairs. Although 


190 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


it was early in the day, each boy was 
arrayed in his Sunday best, and led by 
Marshall, each bore in his hand some 
mysterious package tied daintily with blue 
ribbon. 

Nan felt the atmosphere charged with 
something new, and moved, perhaps by the 
self-consciousness of sixteen, or the approach 
of an unusual ordeal, contrary to her usual 
behavior on these occasions, rushed up to 
her own room, calling for Robbie, who did 
not or would not answer. 

Oh, Rob, the boys are all dressed up.” 

But master Robert had his own affairs to 
attend to, and Nan was forced to rush to 
Marian. 

Oh, Marian, do go and see the boys ! 
They are coming up here, all dressed up.” 

Well,” said Marian, ^Hhe boys come to 
see you always on your birthday ; they do 
not come to see me.” 

“ Yes, but to-day they are dressed up.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


191 


Marian laughed. I ’ll send Rob/’ and 
soon Nan heard laughter on the veranda, and 
Rob’s step on the stair, and then at her door. 

Nan, open the door,” at the same time 
pushing it open himself. 

‘‘Robert Falconer Ratcliffe, what have 
you done to yourself, and what have you 
got there ? ” for there stood Mr. Robert, as 
black as the ace of spades, holding a tray 
full of visiting cards. Making a mock 
salaam to Nan, he deposited the cards in 
Nan’s lap, and said : — 

“ Gemmans to see Miss Ratcliffe, no. Miss 
Anne Ratcliffe ! ” 

“ Tell the ‘ gemmans ’ there is n’t any 
such person. No, I ’ll come down and 
see what ’s the fun. They are up to 
something ! ” 

There they stood in a demure circle, each 
holding his hat in one hand behind him, in 
the other a parcel tied with blue ribbon. 
As Nan entered the circle, they shouted in 


192 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


one voice, Many happy returns of the 
day/’ and laid the parcels at her feet. 

Nan could only sit down in the midst and 
proceed to untie the bundles, which brought 
a protest from Wolcott. 

There! Nan is a little girl, after all. 
You all said she was a young lady to-day,” 
and wdth that he seated himself beside 
her, followed by four of the younger boys, 
while the older ones maintained their digni- 
fied attitudes, standing. 

But the little ones assisted her to open 
her parcels, which disclosed : first, sixteen 
lovely roses from Cousin Hal with To my 
queen rose in the rosebud garden of girls,” 
written on a card. 

Oh, cousin Hal, they are lovely, but I 
am only a tomboy, — roses are for Marian.” 

The next parcel was a box of bonbons 
from Lewis with Sweets to the sweet ! ” 

You are just too bad, Lewis, to make 
game of me ; but I ’ll share with Wolcott.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


193 


A manicure set of daintiest ivory, a tiiiy 
mirror, a box of delicate note-paper, and 
card-case, were the expressions of satire 
from the older boys, upon whom Nan turned 
most withering glances. 

^^You have all made a mistake; these 
are for Miss Eighteen. I will tie them 
all up in a parcel, and put them away 
for two years. Oh, here are some treas- 
ures from my boon companions ; a set of 
paper dolls from Harry, and a tennis 
racket from Wolcott, more candy from 
Crawford, and a dear little pocket-knife 
from Sheldon ! 

These things for Miss Eighteen shall be 
tied up again and marked, and when I meet 
Miss Eighteen I ’ll give them to her. 

I am expecting some old friends down 
on the shore for a corn-roast at eleven 
o’clock, and some good fellows to sail to the 
creek at four. If you see them anywhere, 
I wish you ’d mention it to them. They 

13 


194 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


are a good lot, but they don’t wear fine 
clothes. Just look them up, and send them 
over in sweaters and knickerbockers to join 
a tomboy they ’ll find there.” 

Good for Nan ! She is the same old girl, 
after all. None of your nonsense about 
Nan ! ” and the boys threw off their dignity 
and up their caps, and making a circle 
about Nan, joined in the camp cry : — 

Hi! Ki 1 Yah! Yah ! ” and Lora 
MacCoy.” 

Now for the corn-roast, boys ! Off to 
the pavilion and get out of these togs. We 
might have known Nan would have thought 
us sillies,” and they rushed ofi to their boats 
in very different order from that in which 
they had come. 

But Nan, left sitting with her gifts on the 
floor, put her head into her hands and burst 
into tears. I am sure they half meant it. 
I ’ll soon be growing up, and all my fun will 
be over.” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


195 


Nan, Nan ! ’’ called Robbie half an hour 
later, there ’s an express package over at 
the station for you. Jonas says it’s as big 
as a carriage, and papa says you are to go 
over with him and open it at the farm, for it 
can’t come over in the boat.” 

More surprises. What can it be ? ” 

As big as a carriage, open at the house. 
It must be mother’s sewing machine that 
went to Boston to be repaired. There is n’t 
anything coming for me.” 

Both Rob and papa looked very wise as 
they rowed to the mainland, and Nan began 
to doubt if it was mamma’s sewing machine 
after all. Leaving the boat, they walked to 
the farm where Jonas was ready to drive 
to the station, a mile drive, which they 
made in good time. Nan’s eagerness seem- 
ing to give wings to the horse. 

Jonas, you know what it is ; why won’t 
you tell me ?” said Nan. 

“Secrets is secrets, especially birthday 


196 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


ones/' answered the discreet man-of-all- 
work. 

It is, it is ! — a bicycle ! " cried Nan as 
they at last reached the station, where, 
leaning with unmistakably superior air 
against the side of a most dilapidated old 
building was a Safety ” of latest mould, its 
delicate framework peeping here and there 
through the careful boxing, tantalizing Nan 
to the extreme. 

A real ‘ Safety,’ papa ! how good of 
you ! and for me. Yes, it is marked. 
Miss Anne Katcliffe, Chicopee, N. H. That 
is surely for me and no one else ; but 
here is another one for Harry Prince, and 
a big box besides, for me, from a tailor 
in New York. Oh, papa, can it be from 
Mrs. Prince ? ” 

Yes, my dear ; she left the order before 
she went abroad, so that you would be sure 
to be ready for the September pilgrimage, 
and Harry is to go too, if you go ! ” 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 197 

Oh, papa, that is just too good to be 
true ! But what is in my tailor box ? ” 

That can go over in the boat and be 
opened at the cabin ; but these wheels must 
be left at the barn with the others. Jonas 
will open yours, and Harry can come up this 
afternoon and see his.” 

Owing to the limited space and rough 
roads of the camp island, the bicycles, of 
which most of the boys owned one, were 
stored at the farmhouse, and used only for 
the long excursions which were made during 
the summer. 

Robbie’s eyes glistened a little as he 
looked back from time to time at the two 
cumbersome boxes in the back of the wagon, 
and Nan surprised one of these glances. 

Never mind, old fellow, you can use 
mine, and I know Harry will lend you his 
sometimes, and perhaps another year you ’ll 
get one.” 

That ’s all right,” said Rob, bravely ; 


198 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


the limitations of poverty and a delicate 
constitution having made him a patient, 
long-suffering little lad. 

It was a perfect beauty — Nan’s Safety, — 
for Mrs. Prince, who was princely by name 
and nature, too, had not stinted her order, 
and the wheel was perfect in model and fin- 
ish, and as Nan had long ago taught herself 
to ride on the various machines used by the 
boys, the new bicycle was in no danger of 
being injured by experiments of a novice. 

‘‘Now for the tailor box ! ” said Nan, as 
she left the precious wheel to Jonas’s tender 
mercy, and turned homeward with her added 
possession. 

Marian’s practical mind, busy with her 
own trousseau, said at once : “A bicycle 
suit, of course ! Knickerbockers ! ” 

“ Mrs. Prince would n’t send Nan knicker- 
bockers, I know,” said Mrs. Katcliffe, as the 
box, untied and opened, disclosed a bicycle 
suit of fashionable cut and finish. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


199 


Knickerbockers ! Mrs. Prince would 
not send Nan knickerbockers nor bloomers 
either ! Here they are, though, the real 
thing, but a skirt to wear over them, some 
leggins, a Norfolk jacket, and a ^ tarn ’ with a 
feather. For once. Nan, you will look very 
swell. What will you say to that ? ” 

I shall say that Mrs. Prince is an angel. 
I will not neglect the boys a minute. But 
it is time for the corn-roast. The boys are 
shouting down at the cave, and Don is bark- 
ing enough to wake the sleeping smugglers.” 

Dear me ! sixteen, and such a tomboy 1 ” 
said Marian, sadly. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE PILGRIMAGE. 

TOAN OF ARC at the head of the 

I Armies of France ! ’’ cried Lewis, as 
Nan, arrayed in all the elegant equipment 
of her new bicycle outfit, started at the head 
of the bicycle party, one September morning, 
about two weeks after her sixteenth birth- 
day. 

Joan of Arc on a bicycle, Lewis ! for 
shame ! Call me Miss Liberty, rather, or 
Columbia or Yankee Doodle, for I am noth- 
ing if not an American girl up-to-date,” Nan 
retorted. 

And she looked nothing so well as the 
very spirit of liberty and independence; 
courage, strength, and beauty, for her bi- 
cycle suit had an air of jauntiness that was 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


201 


often wanting her happy-go-lucky clothes, 
and her gay little tarn o’shanter cap, in 
which a little quill was perched, gave Nan 
a charming coquetry that foretold a day of 
real feminity by and by. 

Close to her side came Harry Prince, as 
proud of his right to be Nan’s outrider as of 
his new Safety, and following, two and 
three abreast, were a dozen or more of the 
boys, a few of the youngest lads being 
judged not steady enough for the projected 
jaunt. 

The equipment of the train was heteroge- 
neous and complete, comprising a sporting 
outfit that suggested a variety in taste and 
a broad tract of country. 

Lewis and James Hale and others, armed 
with cameras, hockeys, and kodak, Marshall 
and Steve with fishing-rods ; Mr. Ratcliffe 
and Harold with guns, and the younger lads 
with the boxes for the collection of those 
specimens of bugs and grubs, sticks and 


202 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


stones, plants and fungi which every lad in 
the secrets of nature loves to gather, told 
of an expedition that was to unite the ends 
of science, art, and pleasure. 

For the first five miles the course lay 
through the well worn roads of well known 
villages, past farmhouses, cottages, and 
even shanties whose inmates they all knew 
by name and habit, with whom they ex- 
changed more than one greeting ; and more 
than one greeting was hearty, and would 
have stayed the travellers in their swift pas- 
sage, but the steam was up and no time 
could be lost in mere pleasantry. 

For this year, instead of the long pedes- 
trian march through woods and over height 
of distant hills, the line of advance was to 
lie towards and through the Gold Forest, so 
called, not by reason of the gold dust which 
might be found for the digging, nor gold by 
reason of the glory of autumnal foliage, but 
gold because of the measure of good current 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


203 


coin paid by a multi-millionaire for its vast 
limits of spruce and fir, maple and oak, 
chestnut and birch ; free to the Indian trap- 
per, free to the Yankee woodman and Cana- 
dian fisherman, it no longer was, for it had 
been bought not by roods and acres, but by 
square miles, for the pleasure of the sport- 
ing millionaire, and where moose and bear, 
with an occasional panther, had been the 
only game, fish, flesh, and fowl, of every 
sort abounded, was bred and cherished for 
the private use of this modern Croesus. 

By special permit, Mr. Ratcliffe and his 
party were to traverse the park as far as 
their courage would take them, and a jour- 
ney of some adventure was more than an- 
ticipated. 

The first five miles made almost breath- 
lessly, the party paused at the foot of a hill, 
to take rest, and to look backwards on their 
course which lay behind them a serpentine 
trail through a country sparsely settled, but 


204 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


richly wooded and gorgeously colored by 
Nature’s hand. To the right, raising its 
white head above the blue range, shone Mt. 
Washington, to the south, Kearsarge, and 
here and there, like diamonds in emerald 
settings, the lakes of New Hampshire and 
Vermont, with, off to the west, the silver 
ribbon of the quiet Connecticut River wind- 
ing its way through peaceful valleys, — a 
panorama they all knew in feature and out- 
line, yet which was never the same, touched 
by the infinite variety of Nature’s lights and 
shadows with a thousand shifting beauties. 

^^Do you know what I always think of 
when I look across this vast country, boys, 
with its mountain horizon and wooded 
depths?” asked Mr. Ratcliff e. . 

Of God,” said Harry, looking up to the 
fleckless blue above his head. 

Well said, little man, but although we 
always think of God when face to face with 
a sublime landscape, my thought in this spot 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


205 


has always been the thought of the Indians 
whose footsteps for centuries trod these 
paths, threaded these woods, who fished in 
these streams and have all passed before or 
beneath the hand and foot of the white 
man. Is there not something solemn and 
sublime in the thought of the lives they 
led here, before the white man came ? Not 
a trail or track in these woods, but some 
brave Kearsarge or Merrimac Indian has 
trod in his day, and the secrets of the hills 
and streams they knew, we could hardly 
learn by the aid of all our modern sciences, 
and yet what is left of them but a handful 
here and there, of poor men and women, 
squatters in a land which for centuries was 
all their own ? There to the left, down that 
path we will soon follow, is a small hamlet, 
a settlement of Indians, all that is left of a 
tribe that fought with Philip.’’ 

Oh, papa, while we rest, can’t you tell 
us something of the Indians that used to 


206 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


live about here? Were they a good tribe or 
were they wicked ? ” said Nan, looking 
westward to where the Connecticut marked 
the tramping ground of Pequods and Mohi- 
cans, and southward to the peaceful lands 
of Wannalancet and Chocorua. 

The boys seconded Nan’s request, and 
grouping themselves under some shady elms, 
they turned eagerly to their kind friend, 
who gladly responded to their request on a 
subject which was especially a hobby of 
his. 

I cannot say to your question. Nan, that 
the Indians of this region were not ever 
malicious or hostile, but as a whole they 
were less inclined to hostility than the more 
southern tribes or those to the west of the 
Connecticut, and it is more to our shame 
that they were often betrayed by the white 
man. Almost this very spot is part of a 
large estate given to the English by an 
Indian Sachem, called Seguin, who made it 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


207 


his only condition that he and his kin should 
be protected. The white man, however, un- 
grateful, drove him from even the bit of 
land he had reserved for himself, and the 
Indian resentment being aroused, he secured 
the aid of some of the Pequods, who were 
always ready to avenge their own and 
others’ wrongs, took advantage of a day 
when the farmhouses were deserted, set fire 
to many, captured two white girls and killed 
nine. 

That may be said to be the only outrage, 
and that not unprovoked. How do you 
look at it yourselves, boys ? Do you think 
they were justified in what they did ?” 

From their point of view, perhaps they 
were, Mr. Ratclifie. You see they had given 
their land freely without pay, to the English- 
man, believing in his good faith to protect 
them. But when the white man threw them 
off, they knew of no way to avenge them- 
selves but treachery,” said Marshall. 


208 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


I should just like to have been there, — 
would n’t I have given it to ’em, when they 
ran off with those girls ! ” said Harry, look- 
ing at Nan, as though in his mind’s eye, he 
even now saw the tomahawk of an Indian 
circling around her tawny locks. 

There was poor old Chocorua, too. 
Don’t you remember last year, papa, when 
we tramped down in that direction, you told 
us about him ?” said Nan. 

Tell it again Mr. Ratcliff e, I have 
almost forgotten about it,” said Lewis. 

Poor old Chocorua ! Do you remember 
the beautiful mountain and lake by that 
name? Well, that was called by the name 
of a small tribe who dwelt there, — the last 
one of the race becoming a hermit, who took 
refuge on the mountain and was found one 
day by a white hunter, who shot him in 
cold blood. Dying, the poor old Sachem 
cursed the country, and many superstitious 
people account for a sort of distemper which 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 209 

attacks cattle that graze there, as the direct 
result of that curse. More scientific people, 
however, regard it as caused by the mineral 
waters.” 

Let us see how many names we can re- 
member, for fun,” said Nan, ‘^they are so 
pretty. There’s Pemigawasset, Passacon- 
away and Pennacook and Wannalancet ! ” 
^^Poor Wannalancet! There’s another 
victim of English treachery,” said Harold. 
“ Don’t you remember, boys, how Major Wal- 
dron took advantage of the peaceful atti- 
tude of his tribe to decoy many of them to 
Dover and then sell them as slaves, to be 
shipped from Portsmouth ? Wannalancet 
himself was released and he with a handful 
of men returned to their village, but his 
heart was never the same. He felt sore, 
and yet was too peaceful and gentle to fight 
the white man, so one night like the Arab, 
^ he folded his tent and silently stole away,’ 
to live with the tribes of Canada.” 


14 


210 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


^^Did you ever hear how the Narragan- 
setts, the Sasoits, the Pequods, and the Mo- 
hicans chose their god ? ’’ said Steve, whose 
near-sighted eyes had been viewing the 
landscape o’er, in a drawling tone which 
Nan always said was especially fitted for his 
chosen calling. 

No, tell us, Steve,” said Jimmie, stretch- 
ing himself on a soft bit of turf, and I will 
take a nap.” 

^^Now I call that a delicate compliment, 
but don’t mind a little thing like that, Steve. 
Fire away ! ” said Ernest, proceeding to fol- 
low Jimmie’s example. 

The Pequods and the Narragansetts and 
the Sasoits were gathered together, so the 
legend runs, to determine the strength of 
their good and evil spirits, when the Pequods 
said they would call upon their Good Spirit, 
to show his favor and power. So they all 
formed a ring and called upon their Good 
Spirit, and waited breathlessly for a sign. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


211 


Soon came a sound like the soughing of 
the wind among the trees ; nearer and nearer 
it came, till in the branches of trees above 
their heads, a being, huge, something like a 
bat, descended, bearing a monstrous thing, 
for which they then had no name. Down 
in their midst it came, laying its burden at 
their feet. 

‘‘ ‘ A wigwam ! ’ they cried, but the thing 
was again caught up and borne to the near- 
est water where it floated like a live duck. 
The Canoe was the gift of the Good Spirit. 

^ It is the best gift, with it we can flee 
from our enemies and join our friends. 
What can the Evil Spirit offer ? ’ Again 
there was silence, and again a rustling, this 
time not from above, but from below and in 
their midst appeared a demon-like creature 
bearing slender arrows tipped with poison 
and broad bows. With a yell, Pequods, 
Narragansetts, Sasoits fell upon their gifts. 

‘ Ah, these are still better than the 


212 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


canoe, for with these we can slay man and 
beast.' 

It was then the turn of the other tribes 
to call upon their Spirits, and the Narragan- 
setts called upon their Good Spirit, who sent 
to earth a rain of corn. ^ Hominy,' cried 
they, ^ is the gift of the Good Spirit ; with- 
out food we would have no strength to 
paddle canoes or shoot bows and arrows.' 

Then came the Evil Spirit with arms full 
of a broad leaf which he showed his people 
how to use, filling long pipes and lighting 
them. ‘ Bacca ! Bacca ! 'T is the gift that 
makes us forget to be hungry, makes us in 
peace with our neighbors. Bacca is the best.' 

Then came the Sasoits, and said, ^ Our 
Good Spirit can give us nothing better, but 
the white man comes wfith a gift that makes 
fire in the brain and blood. Fire-water ! 
put fire-water in the mouth and there will 
be fury in the veins, and we can kill our 
enemies, pillage, murder. Fire-water is the 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


213 


gift of the white man. Fire-water is from 
the white man’s Good Spirit and Bad 
Spirit.’ ” 

^^Alas, it was fire-water which in truth 
destroyed the strength of the Indians. It 
was the worst gift he could have chosen. 
In giving him fire-water, the English knew 
only too well that they had put poison in 
their mouths to steal away their brains,” 
said Mr. Ratcliffe, rising and looking at his 
watch. Come, boys, we must be off if we 
are to reach the Count’s by twelve o’clock.” 

The dear old Count ! Does he expect 
us, papa ? ” said Nan. 

Yes, I sent word to him by Farmer 
Gould last week that we would lunch with 
him to-day.” 

Up hill and down dale once more, for ten 
miles farther until there came in sight a sol- 
itary and singular structure that was set on 
a hill so high and set around so thickly wdth 
trees that the party were glad to dismount 


214 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


and walk, guiding their wheels through the 
thick maze. 

I always think of the ^ Bishop of Bingen 
in his round tower on the Rhine,’ when I 
look at the Count’s queer fortress,” said 
Lewis. 

Just hold my machine a minute, Ernest, 
will you ? I want to catch the view of it 
through the clearing. The vines have 
grown since last year, and all he needs is a 
moat to make it look like a castle. I ’ll 
take a snap just here. If the old fellow 
would only come out with his ^ ’cello,’ it 
would be perfect.” 

“ That is the best view we have had, is n’t 
it ? ” said Lewis, turning to Nan ; but Nan 
was lost in thought and dreams, and her 
usually clear eyes were swimming in tears, 
for just here Nan touched the border of 
dreamland, and left the everyday, workaday 
world behind. It was as though she herself 
were a fairy princess, embowered and asleep 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


215 


in the queer round tower on the hill, and 
this girl of the outer world was come to call 
her back to life. 

Indeed Nan’s inner self w^as held very fast 
in that round tower on the hill, as we will 
soon see. Hal took from his travelling pack 
a long fish-horn used at camp to summon 
the boys to meals, and blowing one long 
blast, waited and watched for a sign from 
the tower. They had not long to w^ait, for 
soon there appeared on the low archway 
that served as a gate and doorway, two 
quaint, queer old-world figures. The elder 
a man not older than forty-five, with the 
narrow pointed beard and cut of hair of the 
days of the cavaliers. He wore a short vel- 
veteen jacket and corduroy knickerbockers. 
Beside him stood an odd short figure, 
with a countenance that was a combina- 
tion of Esquimaux and Cossack; he wore 
a long woollen garment, a combination 
of jersey sweater and smock, a pair of 


216 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


baggy trousers, high boots, and a peaked 
cap of odd colors. 

Both men waved their hands gayly to 
the travellers, and several of the younger 
boys rushed wildly up, leaving their ma- 
chines in the bushes, shouting, “ Ivan, Ivan ! ” 
circling about the little peasant in a gay 
fanfare which amused and delighted him. 

Welcome, a thousand times welcome,’* 
said the elder man, extending his hands to 
Mr. Ratcliffe and Hal as they advanced. 

Ah, my little one grown so great and so 
beautiful,” taking Nan’s two hands in his 
and looking proudly and fondly at her 
strong young face and figure. And the 
music, — our violin, does it suffer ? The 
winter will come again and the young men 
will go ; then we will have music.” 

Master Lewis, how goes the pictures ? 
This is the little brother; a brave boy to 
march so far. Come in ! come in ! we are 
ready for you. Ivan has prepared the table 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


217 


in the woods. Our little rooms are too 
small for so many of you, but come in.” 

The boys waited for no second invitation 
but entered the quaint dwelling, where this 
singular man lived by himself with this one 
servant alone. 

A Russian of good birth, he had escaped 
Siberia, but had found exile in this lonely 
place, not only tolerable but pleasant. Some 
five years previous to the opening of our 
story, he had sought this spot and built a 
lodge, where he lived an odd existence, sur- 
rounded not only by the necessities but 
many of the luxuries of life, for in the 
circular room which was the ground apart- 
ment every sort of musical instrument was 
found, except a piano, and shelves of books 
of many languages, pencils and paint brushes, 
and a hunting equipment for Nimrod. Lead- 
ing from this central room was a wooden out- 
house where Ivan, the servant cooked. It was 
to this room the little boys had followed 


218 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Ivan, whose queer ways and grotesque ap- 
pearance was always an amusement to them. 

Three years before, Mr. Ratcliffe had 
been driving in his sleigh in the neighbor- 
hood of this queer habitation, and saw this 
odd little figure flying distractedly along 
the road, muttering an unintelligible jargon. 
He stopped and asked the man who he 
was and what his trouble ; and learned 
that his master had fallen and broken 
his leg and was lying by the roadside, 
unable to move. It took Mr. Eatcli:ffe but 
a short time to take in the situation, and 
to see that left to himself in that secluded 
spot, miles from a doctor, the poor Count 
would be helpless for months. So, ignoring 
his protests he carried him to his own home, 
where through several weeks of suffering 
Mrs. Ratcliffe cared for the poor man, who 
richly repaid her by teaching Nan the vio- 
lin, and opening up to the little girl a new 
world of music and poetry. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


219 


Not content with teaching during those 
weeks of confinement, he would make the 
journey through the spring and fall, twice 
a ^veek, to add to her knowledge, and when 
another winter came, Mr. Ratcliffe persuaded 
him to abandon his lodge and to come to 
Chicopee, which he would indeed have been 
loth to do had he not been bound to Nan by 
ties of tender affection and love of music. 

He was a curious character. Count Lodoff, 
and had it not been for Nan’s sturdy Ameri- 
can common sense, his extravagant praise 
of her talent and admiration might well 
have turned her head. 

To spend a night at the Count’s Hermi- 
tage was one of the events of the pilgrimage, 
uniting the delights of Swiss Family Robin- 
son with the pleasures of a season of sym- 
phony concert. 

■ To begin with, there was always the rare 
sport of stowing themselves away, finding 
sleeping room in odd corners for small boys. 


220 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


and erecting bivouacs around Ivan’s fire for 
the larger ones who enjoyed the sleeping 
out-of-doors like true children of the forest. 

For Nan there was always the Count’s 
own room, which seemed for the occasion to 
take on a surprising grace of knick-knack 
and luxury which Nan herself clothed 
with a great deal of sentiment, fancying 
them souvenirs of the days when there 
was a Countess of whom the Count never 
spoke. 

After the supper, eaten under the trees, 
there was a huge log fire kindled in the 
Den, and the Count unlocked his musical 
cabinet, and each boy had his choice of 
quaint and queer musical instruments, upon 
each and all of which the Count could make 
music such as no one else could. 

It was from this store that Nan’s own 
violin had come, and there were still two 
others left, and a ’cello of marvellous tone, 
upon which the Count himself played, insist- 


XAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


221 


ing that Nan should accompany him on a 
violin, and that Lewis and Hal should take 
oboe and flute. Then there was music, and 
the old owls in the oaks and the night- 
hawks hovering over the old rookery could 
scarce believe their ears, and fell to belabor- 
ing each other, in search of an imaginary 
enemy. 

And when the music was over there were 
such tales of wolves in Russia, and every 
species of horror and fancy for which the 
Count’s memory and imagination could find 
extraordinary language, and then when it 
was bed time, the Count was so weaned 
from his hermit ways, that he could not 
make up his mind to say good-bye to them 
in the morning, but decided to join them in 
their trip to the Gold Forest. 

So they said good night and dreamed, the 
boys of great fights with wild beasts, and 
Nan of foreign countesses imprisoned in 
wonderful towers. 


222 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


And when morning came, and when break- 
fast was eaten of porridge and milk, which 
Ivan had walked two miles to get, — they 
all set out again. 

We are to leave our wheels at the Sign 
of the Red Oak Inn,” said Mr. Ratcliffe, by 
which somewhat fanciful name a certain old 
tavern on the high road was called. There 
we have the turnpike stage for the day to 
make our tour of the Forest.” 

Oh, papa,’’ said Nan, I thought we 
could go with our bicycles all the way.” 

As far as the roads go we could, my 
dear, but upon writing for my permit, I 
learned that it was not safe to risk going 
through on our wheels, as there are so many 
untamed animals, who might easily take 
fright and destroy us perhaps, and injure 
themselves. On no account, except self- 
defence, are we to shoot or chase any of 
the beasts. We go as visitors only, but not 
as guests. The coach horses know the 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


223 


track and are not likely to be over fright- 
ened by moose or buffalo.'’ 

And are we to see a real buffalo?” said 
Harry, his courage for the expedition waning 
somewhat. 

Perhaps ; it is possible that we may go 
through without seeing anything larger than 
a woodchuck,” said Hal. I knew some 
men who went through there in the summer 
and did not hear or see any big game ; but 
we will hope for better luck.” 

‘‘Or worse,” said Marshall, with a laugh. 

“ On the contrary, I knew some fellows 
who had the luck to run into a huge cow- 
moose that nearly tore them to pieces.” 

“Well, we won't get up any bugbears; 
we are in search of adventure, but not 
damage,” said Mr. Ratcliffe. 

It was about ten when they reached the 
Inn, and the coach horses, four heavy-limbed 
creatures with clumsy harnesses were soon 
harnessed to the great lumbering coach. 


224 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


which until the new railroad had laid its 
tracks last year, was the only conveyance 
to the neighboring town twelve miles 
away. 

The boys were familiar with its pitching 
and rolling gait, as the horses plunged down 
and up hill. There is no gait like that of 
stage horses with their four generally spav- 
ined knees, their swollen necks and snort- 
ing breath. Four of them, each straining, 
tugging, tossing their heads and working 
their limbs, are like no other locomotive 
power in the world, and the lightly-hung 
great coach rolls through the deep roads as 
a great ship rides the deep sea. There is an 
exhilaration, an excitement with it all, that 
overcomes all discomforts and fear. 

Now up, now down, the clouds yonder 
melting into mountains, as our visual im- 
pressions are shaped by the uneven motion. 
The trees going swiftly by like grenadiers 
in a fight, or toppling over like ruffians on a 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


225 


spree. Then all at once the old stage horses 
all a-foani and out of breath, settle down to 
an even run, and then to an even pace, 
refusing to run except over hills. Then the 
woods come to their own again, and we can 
count the birch in its varying tones, from 
brown to white, and see the golden line of 
the dodder as it threads the oak, and even 
the fairy print of the delicate maidenhair 
fern ; and the chestnut-burrs all ready to 
burst. 

The four great horses from the Sign of 
the Red Oak were used from long habit to 
make good time with the county mail-bag, 
and finding themselves once more hitched to 
their life-long companion, the coach, after a 
season of separation, caused by that hostile 
innovation, the railroad, they made good 
use of the union of forces, and tore like 
the steeds of Phaethon when that young 
man undertook to drive the sun for his 
ancient father Helios. 


15 


226 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


For a time the ride promised to rival all 
the famous rides in history, from John 
Gilpin’s on his wedding day to Sheridan’s 
at Winchester ; but their usual distance 
travelled, the old fellows looked around 
with surprise for the railroad station, and 
found instead a huge postern gate, through 
which their unwilling heads were still 
turned, and beyond, a track, a long and 
narrow road, at which they sniffed. They 
had once on a time taken that road before. 
Beside and beyond its innocent looking 
borders lay ambushed queer things, with 
horns that horses did not love, but there 
was no resisting the lash of a practised 
driver’s whip, and in they plunged. This 
time, however, not with the confidence of 
animals on a home run, but suspiciously 
like steeds around a circus tent. 

The Count’s thin nostrils dilated as he 
turned toward Mr. Ratcliffe with a sophis- 
ticated smile, saying : — 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


227 


Now for some sport.’* 

Mr. Ratcliffe, however, had the responsi- 
bility of a precious cargo, and he said in an 
undertone to the driver : — 

Is there likely to be trouble ? ” 

Not a leetle bit,” said the wary John. 

My team, you see, is like women, skeery 
o’ things they don’t see, but brave as lions 
before the enemy. They ’ll sniff for a while, 
till they get used to the scent o’ wild game, 
but if a wild elk stood right in the path 
ahead of us they would n’t kick nor run one 
peg. That ’s my team. Cheer up, Suke 
and Sal, Dan and Dave.” For by these 
classic names the old wagoner hailed his 
steeds, and true to their reputation, after 
sniffing awhile the air of the game park, 
they settled down to a quiet jog trot, as 
though quite satisfied there was to be no 
formidable foe in the outing. 

Their confidence seemed to be warranted. 
For a mile or two there was no sight nor 


228 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


sound of any living creature, save the birds 
and chipmunks that chirruped in the trees, 
or the gurgling of a brook or stream that 
fell over the rocks below. 

Whist ! Shoo ! Oh ! See there,’’ sud- 
denly in various tones of surprise and de- 
light, came from the lips of a dozen boys, 
when all at once at a bend in the road, a 
huge antlered head appeared thrust through 
the branches of a broad oak. The horses 
came to a standstill. Three boys with 
kodaks sprang down from the coach-top into 
the road ; they were Lewis, Marshall and 
Hal. 

Now for a shot, boys,” whispered Hal 
in a low voice. 

The great monarch of the forest heard, 
and sprang backward quickly as if to flight, 
and the boys ran in pursuit, thinking only 
of their cameras, and the chance to take a 
dozen rapid shots at the great Wahpeta. But 
the stag, as though conscious of his advan- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


229 


tage, suddenly wheeled about and charged 
upon them. Lewis, always intrepid, kept 
the van, his black kodak swinging high to 
get the range of the creature’s head. Hal 
and Marshall called : — 

Lewis, for mercy’s sake, keep out of his 
range ; he will gore you in a second.” 

The older boys stationed themselves be- 
hind trees, and saw with horror Lewis’s dan- 
ger, of which the lad himself was wholly 
unmindful. All at once the beast seemed 
to loom over his head, his eyes wild, his 
breath hot and labored. Lewis dodged 
quickly behind a tree near by, but Mr. Stag 
was in the flash of an eye on the other side. 
Lewis, keeping his nerve, dodged to the 
other, holding his huge enemy at bay for 
some seconds, while Hal and Marshall stood 
spellbound by his pluck. Their positions 
were some paces off, and out of close range 
with the animal. 

We must call him off and give Lewis a 


230 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


chance to run/’ said Hal, and he gave a 
low call, known to hunters as the cow-call, 
at which the stag turned from his quarry, 
and Marshall cried : — 

Run, Lewis, for the coach.” 

In ten seconds Lewis scrambled up the 
back of the coach, and was welcomed 
warmly by the coach party. 

It was then the turn of the other boys to 
escape, for the Wahpeta had turned but for 
a moment, and would soon give chase to 
them. Marshall then had recourse to a 
little trick which he had often used for the 
amusement of the boys, and called ventrilo- 
quism to his aid. A sound of dogs in the 
distance caused the beast to wheel about 
and fly into the farther depths of the forest, 
and the young men walked back to the 
coach somewhat elated by their narrow 
escape. 

^^He was a wild one and not used to 
cameras. By the way, Lewis, you dropped 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


231 


yours there in the woods. Here it is. I 
guess you may like to keep that slide as a 
souvenir of a pretty narrow escape.’' 

’T was a pretty close shave, was n’t it 
though ?” said Harold. 

The drive for the next hour was unevent- 
ful, until they neared an open space like a 
meadow, at the bottom of which a clear 
stream of water ran. 

There 's where the big fellows pasture 
and drink,” said the driver pointing with 
his whip to a black mass of moving objects 
approaching in the distance. 

Let ’s wait and see them go down,” said 
Nan, curious and eager for the advance of 
the buffalo herd. 

I dunno ’s I ’d stay too long till they 
gets too near ; the horses ain’t over fond o’ 
them woolly critters. Speaking distance is 
too near fer them. Ef you can get ’em 
close enough to them instruments o’ yours 
to take their likeness without feeling their 


232 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


wind or seeing their eyeballs, I reckon 
that's near enough,” said the Jehu, chuck- 
ling over the recent adventure. 

Quite near enough indeed have they 
come, boys ! Get your cameras mounted, 
and snap, then we will be off,” said Mr. 
Katcliffe, nervously, and the hoys were not 
anxious for another encounter, especially 
where they were forbidden to use their guns 
or pistols. On they came, the great, clumsy 
creatures, pawing the ground and tossing 
their manes. Not near enough for danger, 
the horses halted and the boys took a dozen 
views of the wild herd, and the coach passed 
on to a peaceful, quiet path, close on to the 
eastern border of the forest. 

^^If you've a mind to get down here, 
there ain’t a mite o' danger. Over yonder 
is the lodge-house and a couple of keepers 
near by. The wildest creatures seldom 
come so far,” said their guide. 

Oh, papa, let us eat our lunch here, and 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


283 


walk a little, for we are quite cramped with 
sitting so long,” suggested Nan. 

The whole party seconded Nan’s proposal, 
and they all clambered down from the top 
of the coach, and proceeded to take out from 
the coach, guns, boxes, and baskets. 

Why take out your guns?” asked Ernest 
of Marshall. 

‘‘ It is just as well to be armed at the edge 
of a wood known to be the habitation of 
wild beasts,” said Marshall, looking very 
fierce at the younger lad. 

To Nan and the Count fell the arrange- 
ment of luncheon, and when it was spread, 
all gathered around, voraciously hungry 
after their long ride. 

A number of the boys then begged per- 
mission to reconnoitre the vicinity, and 
Mr. Ratclilfe and Hal accompanied them, 
while Marshall and the Count remained 
with Nan to gather up the remnants of 
the feast. 


234 NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 

The Count, who was not so well adapted 
to such jaunts as his young friends, soon 
stretched himself under the trees for a nap, 
and Marshall and Nan gave themselves up 
to the delights of the situation in good com- 
radeship. 

The voices of the exploring party had 
died away in the distance ; the jovial coach- 
man having loosed his horses, had betaken 
himself to the vacant compartment of the 
coach where he slept peacefully. The utter 
stillness was all at once broken by a cry like 
that of a child. 

Oh, Marshall, Harry ! He is hurt ! ’’ 
cried Nan, and with that she followed the 
sound into the thicket. Marshall, impelled 
by some apprehension, seizing his gun, pur- 
sued her till a sight met his eyes which for 
a moment froze his blood — Nan running 
straight under the boughs of a tree where, 
crouched to spring, sat a wild cat of ugliest 


mien. 



“ She followed the sound into the thicket. 








NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


235 


Nan, stop! Look! lie down,’' lie cried 
wildly ; I am going to shoot.” 

In a second, he had taken aim, and the 
creature fell in a lifeless mass beside Nan, 
who but then realized her peril and Mar- 
shall’s presence of mind. For a second her 
heart seemed to stop, and her lips paled, as 
Marshall ran to lift her to her feet; then 
she laughed and said : — 

A trophy for you, Marshall. Is n’t it a 
beauty ? What stripes ! It is almost as 
large as a panther. My life would n’t have 
been worth much a minute later. Oh, Mar- 
shall, I have n’t thanked you, I was so proud 
of your prize.” 

Which prize ?” said Marshall. 

Just then, the shouts of the returning 
party forbade an answer, and Marshall was 
the hero of the hour. Nan, the petted idol, 
more precious than ever for her narrow 
escape. 

The days that followed were uneventful, 


236 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


but the happiest days, like the happiest 
nations, have no history, and they returned 
to camp on the sixth day with bugs and 
birds, snakes and skins and stones galore, 
as souvenirs of the joyous pilgrimage, and 
the Count’s promise to visit the camp the 
following w^eek for an important occasion. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


BISHOP S DAY. 



^HE Pilgrimage was but the beginning 


J- of the end, for the camp was even 
then showing signs of breaking up, a few of 
the younger lads returning to city schools, 
but a goodly number were still to remain 
for Bishop’s Day and Marian’s wedding, 
which was to take place on that special 
Sunday marked by the coming of the good 
Bishop to officiate for Mr. RatclifEe in the 
Oak Grove Chapel. 

It had required some courage on Marian’s 
part to forego all the so-called essentials of 
a wedding, but after Herbert’s accident, as 
little excitement as possible for him was 
deemed prudent. Marian had but lately an- 


238 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


noimced to her father her intention of being 
married in the camp Chapel, whereat he 
had remarked : — 

‘‘It is a great deal more like Nan than 
like you, Marian.’' 

“ Oh, you always think Nan will do the 
heroic, papa,” said Marian, a little bitterly 
for her. 

“Not at all, my dear, but Nan hates fuss 
and feathers, you know, and it would re- 
quire less heroism for her to give up wed- 
ding furbelows than for you. So you see, 
it is really you who are heroic. The boys, 
however, will make your wedding a thing 
of beauty, for their music is beautiful this 
year. The chapel is beginning to take on 
the glorious autumn tints, and I could wish 
nothing better for you and Herbert than to 
see you married by the good Bishop in our 
dear Oak Chapel.” 

But no matter how much Nan disliked 
furbelows for herself, she desired them for 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


239 


Marian, and for the tenth time and last, on 
the Friday before that Sunday which was to 
be the wedding-day. Nan delivered herself of 
her sentiments to Marian in no mieasured 
terms. 

I don’t approve of this Sunday wedding 
at all, with only your Sunday gown on. I 
think it just no fun. You, Marian, who 
always go in for things just so, to be married 
on Sunday without any frills at all ! ” 

But, Nan, marriage is a sacred sacra- 
• ment, quite as fitting Sunday as any other 
day of the week. And I want the Bishop 
to marry us, and he can’t come a hundred 
miles again. Then, too, Herbert is so re- 
lieved, for since his accident, his nerves have 
not been equal to any kind of excitement 
such as you would like for our wedding.” 

Of course, but no bridesmaids, no maids 
of honor, no pages ! Well, Marian you are 
a great disappointment to me,” said Nan, 
seating herself on her sister’s bed, and sur- 


240 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


veying her with mingled scorn and amuse- 
ment. 

If I am a disappointment to you, you 
are a surprise to me, for I thought this would 
just suit you who scorn fashion and furbe- 
lows,” answered Marian, with a tone of 
oppression, as one who has had all the 
opposition endurable and feels like the 
miller in the fable, ready to please any- 
body for the sake of peace. 

‘^Well, I do despise them for myself, but 
one has got to live up to one’s standard. 
No one would expect anything regular of 
me, and no one would be surprised to have 
me go to Gretna Green to get married. I 
am a born contradiction. But you never 
have done anything that was not expected 
of you in your life. I should think Herbert 
would think you had changed your spots 
like a charheleon.” 

Now, Nan, you are just talking . non- 
sense. I have done what seemed wisest. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


241 


and to balance it, you will probably have all 
the frills I give up. Such is the irony of 
fate.” 

Then I shall have to change my spots.” 

Oh, you will,” said Marian. You 
won’t stay fly-away. I wouldn’t be sur- 
prised if you developed into quite a sensible 
woman and married wisely.” 

^ Sensible woman and married wisely ! ’ 
Oh, Marian, you are the biggest goose 1 
You can’t see anything but marriage for 
anybody. I don’t propose to marry wisely 
whatever I do. If I am ever wise, I ’ll not 
get married at all. But let’s not quarrel 
any more, Marian. After you are married 
and away, I shall reproach myself for being 
so hateful to you. As sisters go, you have 
been very good to me, for I must have been 
a great trial to you. I don’t suppose any 
sister could have been better. Your mis- 
take was that you were not a brother. If 
you had been a boy and Robbie a girl, this 
16 


242 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


family would have been more symmetrical, 
for Rob is more of a girl than a boy, and I 
do need an older brother.’^ 

Nan paused only for breath, but Marian 
exclaimed : — 

Anna Ratcliffe ! You need an older 
brother, with all those boys ? The trouble 
is, you have n’t more sisters. If I had been 
the right kind of a sister, you would never 
have had all those boys dangling — ” 

It was now Nan’s turn to be exasperated, 
and Marian’s words, added to the care with 
which she was folding gloves and veils in 
white tissue paper, gave poignancy to Nan’s 
words. 

Dangling ! our boys dangling after me ! 
If it had n’t been for the boys I should have 
been a prig or a puny, sentimental girl, 
whereas, — feel that muscle, Marian Rat- 
cliife. Do you suppose I shall waste my 
life in backaches and sideaches ? No, 
thanks to the boys, I have health and 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


243 


strength, and all the nonsense knocked out 
of me. No, our boys will never dangle 
around me.” 

Nan ! ” called the mother's voice. 

Yes, mamma," answered the daughter. 

You are to go over to the camp for 
Harry and Wolcott to come to tea, and ask 
Lewis to come when he is ready. Papa 
says you are to ask no questions and answer 
none.” 

Humph ! that 's funny,” said Nan, fly- 
ing, however, to do the welcome errand. 

It was much easier for the boys to ask 
questions than for Nan not to make an at- 
tempt to answer them, for it was very un- 
usual for Mrs. Ratcliffe to invite the boys to 
the limited hospitality of the cabin home, 
except on birthdays, and Wolcott’s teasing, 
Harry’s pleading, could not gain any reason 
for this welcome invitation. 

Lewis’s “ thanks, be most happy,” was all 


244 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


the comment that young man made, al- 
tliougli there came into his eyes 

The light that never was 
On sea or land/’ 

The little cabin never looked more invit- 
ing than on that September afternoon when 
Nan came over from the island with the 
little Prince boys. The tea-table was set in 
the room which but for stairs might have 
been simply the sitting-room, and but for 
the fireplace would have been only the hall, 
yet by the common union of modern archi- 
tectural designs had become the living-room 
of their island cottage. 

It looked now a banquet hall with its 
nooks and corners glorious with goldenrod, 
a blue Flemish jar bright with the same fall 
flowers in the centre of the supper-table, 
which had all of beauty in glass and china 
that camp rule allowed, spread bravely over 
the snowy linen. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


245 


Nan thought her mamma more demonstra- 
tive than usual in her greeting of the boys, 
but if she gave it a second thought, fancied 
the eve of Marian’s wedding made them all 
a bit sentimental. 

I think we will not wait,” said Mrs. 
Ratcliffe, half an hour later, when Lewis 
had arrived, and Herbert and Mr. Ratcliffe 
had joined the party. 

Why should we ? We are all here,” said 
Robbie. 

And oh, for the strawberry jam and the 
gay Sally Lunn ! ” sang Lewis in the measure 
of Sullivan’s Sorcerer.” 

But here is another place, mamma,” 
said Nan, counting the plates as they drew 
their chairs to the table, plenteously laden 
with good things. 

^^Do you expect the Bishop to-night?” 
asked Mr. RatclifEe somew^hat sadly. 

^^No; but one must be prepared for 
wedding guests at any time now,” Mrs. 


246 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Katcliffe answered, looking out over the 
water as if in search of a boat-load of wed- 
ding guests. 

The ferry bell did ring about a few 
minutes ago/' said Harry, ^‘and perhaps 
somebody will come." 

Jonas went over in the ^ Worry’ for some 
things," said Mr. Ratcliffe, serving fried 
chicken somewhat absently, and adding 
large pieces of milk toast. 

I think Jonas is coming now, papa. 
There ’s his step on the walk," said Robbie, 
springing to open the back porch door, but 
just then a light knock at the front door 
brought Nan to her feet, and a voice so 
rare and sweet they all knew could be but 
one, stirred them all. 

Mrs. Prince ! ’’ Mamma ! Mamma ! ” 
A rush and a happy scream, and three 
boys seemed at once to be gathered into the 
soft embrace of a beautiful figure clothed in 
heavy mourning. 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


247 


My boys, I could not wait any longer ! 
I was hungry for you. Lewis, how you 
have grown, — half a head taller than 
mamma ! And Harry darling, how well 
you look! Wolcott, my baby, lots of kisses 
for mamma. Not too tight ; there, dear, I 
must say a word to the others. Dear Mrs. 
Ratcliffe and the good Don. Marian, almost 
a bride 1 Mr. Morton well again ? Robbie 
stronger too, and Nan, my own girlie, going 
with me ? ” 

Whatever doubt might have lingered in 
Nan’s mind as to her decision, seemed to 
melt away as this beautiful woman with her 
caressing voice gathered them all into the 
spell of her rare presence. 

She was so young and fair to look upon, 
despite the height of her tall boy, and the 
depth of the shadow cast by her heavy 
mourning. The hair on her white brow 
seemed as soft and as golden as Wolcott’s 
baby locks. Her blue eyes were shaded by 


248 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


lashes that seemed to have caught the 
diamond dew of a summer morning and her 
clear red lips, so pure in their closing over 
white teeth, were like those of a young 
girl who dreams dreams, and has never 
known sorrow. 

Then there was about her such an air of 
ease and comfort, fairly radiating a delicious 
sumptuousness that made every one forget 
there was a world of flurry and bustle^ 
misery and discomfort. 

Of course, one must always say that it is 
easier to be thus, when one is rich and has 
not to fret or to work, but so many persons 
who are rich contrive to make things disa- 
greeable for everybody else, and never think 
of any one’s comfort but their own, that 
when one finds a rich and beautiful woman 
who is neither vain nor selfish, but is always 
thinking of some one else than herself, she 
is a much rarer person than the poor little 
woman who has always been sacrificing 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 249 

herself^ and has long since given up yielding 
to any temptation to do anything else. 
Not that Mrs. Prince had no trouble of her 
own. Far from it. Her young husband 
had been taken from her when she most 
needed his guidance in the training of 
their three boys. A baby girl, who would 
have been the joy of their hearts, had been 
snatched from her in one short day of terri- 
ble illness, and yet she could never make 
her boys’ lives unhappy by grieving, and 
many were the homes made brighter and 
sweeter for her smiles; and here she was, 
showering these smiles without stint, upon 
them all. The girls and boys too, closed 
around to aid her in undoing the cloak and 
bonnet. Nan laid the long veil back lov- 
ingly, and took ofE the small widow’s bonnet, 
that looked so pathetic on the girlish brow, 
and at last she was led in triumph to a 
seat between her two boys, Lewis placing 
himself opposite, where he could gaze to 


250 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


his heart’s content on the loveliest lady in 
the land as he loved to call her in his gal- 
lant fashion. 

Oh, such a weary time it seems since T 
left you, laddies ! Yes, mamma has lots of 
things in her trunks in Boston for you and 
everybody. Even your wedding present is 
there, Marian, but ray new maid will bring 
them up to-morrow to the hotel, where we will 
wait till Nan is ready to go back with us.” 

Then all the happenings of the weeks 
since the last letters were received had to 
be told, and when at last the tea-things 
were all set away, and a log lighted on the 
hearth, Wolcott nestled in his mother’s lap, 
Harry full length at her feet, Lewis with 
one arm thrown around her shoulder, as he 
perched beside her chair; the others slipped 
away to leave the happy group together. 
But ’twas only a few minutes before Mrs. 
Prince called for Nan, and Harry ran to the 
kitchen to call her, saying : — 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


251 


must have Nan too j mamma says 
Nan is going to be our sister this winter/’ 
and Nan sat down on the floor too, and 
watched with Harry the glowing embers of 
the burning log, until Lewis said, — 

What have you heard from Daisy^ 
mamma ? ” 

She has been very ill, but there is some 
hope, — a good deal, I may say.” 

Who is Daisy ? ” Nan asked softly, as 
she caught the sadness in Mrs. Prince’s tone 
and the sympathy in Lewis’s answer. 

Oh, she is one of mamma’s little 
friends,” said Lewis a little more gayly. 

She has a whole lot of them, you 
know ; but Daisy is the dearest duck of 
them all, and we are all awfully fond of 
her. She is a little lame girl with the 
loveliest hair you ever saw, like a rain of 
gold falling over her pretty little shoulder ; 
and then her eyes are just like those great 
brown eyes of the paintings of Murillo.” 


252 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


Where did you know her, Mrs. Prince ? ” 
asked Nan. 

Mrs. Prince seemed to be weary, and 
Lewis went on enthusiastically. 

It was two years ago this Christmas, 
mamma bought some lovely embroidery and 
painted fancy articles at the Woman’s Ex- 
change. She has a way of asking all about 
the people who do the work she buys. Lots 
of her little friends come through the 
Woman’s Exchange. The ‘ D. G.’s,’ I call 
them. Mamma says ^ Dear Girls.’ At any 
rate, Daisy was a prize. Of course the 
lady of Altruria, — that’s what Professor 
Dean calls my mother, — took Daisy right 
down to the hospital in the ^Prince Ward,’ 
which you know mamma has endowed in 
memory of papa and our little sister. There 
Daisy is undergoing treatment with pros- 
pects of getting better.” 

Lewis has spoiled my surprise a little, 
for I want to take you to see little Pearl as 


NAN" AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


253 


soon as we go borne, for I know you, with 
your strength, will pity and love her,'’ Mrs. 
Prince said softly, looking down upon Wol- 
cott fast asleep. 

I hope I shall, but you must forgive 
me if I am strange at first, for you know 
I am a little afraid of lame persons. 
When I was a little child papa says I would 
scream if a lame person came in sight. 
When we were walking on the street 
mamma would suddenly feel me clutch her 
dress, and then turn pale as a sheet at the 
approach of a lame man. There was a 
friend of mamma’s who had sprained her 
knee, and had to go on crutches. She was 
a perfect nightmare to me, and it was 
several years before I would go near her 
house, although she had laid aside her 
crutches. I have gotten over that pretty 
much, but this summer when Herbert was 
on crutches, it made me feel horribly to see 
him lame, not only on his account, but on 


254 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


my own. It is odd, because papa thinks 1 
am a good nurse, and one of my pet dreams 
has been to be a trained nurse. 

Oh, not a trained nurse. You, Nan ? ” 
said Lewis, to whose aesthetic nature the 
scientific did not appeal. 

Nan would make one of the best trained 
nurses imaginable, or even to go a step 
farther into medicine, if she liked. Lewis, 
you do not appreciate how rare a gift it 
is. But that is a long way oil. There is 
much between to fit you for a choice, dear 
girl, and I hope to help you choose for the 
best. Lewis shall not let his fancies spoil 
your usefulness.’' 

But now, boys, I think you must go 
back to the Island and leave Wolcott with 
mamma to-night, for he is too sleepy to 
rouse.” 

With a tender good-night, the two older 
lads took leave of their lovely mamma, and 
Wolcott was placed in the tower-room which 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


255 


overlooked the lake, to sleep the happy 
sleep with dreams which only a mother’s 
kiss can bring. Then Mrs. Prince was 
carried off by the girls to mother’s room to 
see the bride's dress, a modest girlish affair, 
which Mrs. Prince, surfeited with the gor- 
geousness of fashionable dresses, found 
lovely in its simplicity, and did much to 
reconcile Nan to the wedding by her sincere 
and hearty approval. 

The wedding day dawned fair and beauti- 
ful, though a soft haze lay over the moun- 
tains in the early morn, and the good 
Bishop who had arrived the night before, 
and strolled forth to catch some early views 
of the lake and mountains, found the land- 
scape shrouded in mist when he met Nan, 
who had rowed over from the cabin to the 
camp to add one more touch of beauty to 
the wood chapel before morning service. 
The Bishop found her with arms laden 


256 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


with ferns and daisies, goldenrod and asters, 
threading her way through the woods while 
the dew was yet wet on the grass, and there 
was a Sunday morning quiet about the 
camp that told breakfast was yet unthought 
of. For Nan, however^ Bishop’s Day was 
always sacred and beautiful, and to-day, 
twice blessed because Marian’s wedding-day. 
Nothing must be spared to make the chapel 
worthy the day and the deed, and this 
sacred spot dear to them all, formed by 
nature’s hand for the worship of Nature’s 
God, must be adorned as for Easter or 
Christmas. 

This little chapel, chosen by Mr. Ratcliff e 
for the fitness of the arching oaks spreading 
over an open space, had been forced of late 
to enlarge its boundaries by the building of 
seats in the denser portions of the grove ; 
for, an ardent churchman, Mr. Ratcliffe had, 
since the opening of camp, made the observ- 
ance of church services one of the e«tab- 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


257 


lished features of camp-life^ and thanks to 
his earnest efforts to keep the vulgar and 
idle from gathering in this sacred spot, few 
came to gape and many to pray. Neighbors 
and visitors who gathered in numbers on 
Sundays felt the full beneficence of the 
service. To-day, not only the boys in 
snowy surplices, but Nan as well, would 
sing the choral service ; but Nan was to 
play an offertory on her violin, the Count 
to add his wonderful music to the whole, 
and Stephen Whittemore, in his soft languid 
tones, read the lessons, apd the good Bishop 
bless and crown it all. Together the white- 
haired old man and the bright-haired girl 
walked through the woods until before the 
great boulder which served as altar, and 
under the great elm, against whose gnarled 
trunk a rustic cross extended its arms of 
faith and hope to the open sky, they paused. 
Nan to lay down her burden of green, the 
bishop to look up and say : — 


258 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


^ How beautiful upon the mountains, are 
the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, 
that publisheth peace.’ My little girl, do 
you realize how good it is to be here ? ” 

Nan looked up fearlessly, for the Bishop 
was an old friend ; not only had he baptized 
and confirmed her, but his name was a 
household word. 

When you are here, I always think of 
Moses going up into the mountain to talk 
with God,” she said, almost childishly. 

No man may do that to-day face to 
face, any more than in Moses’s time, but we 
feel nearer to God in the stillness of Nature’s 
forest tlian in the crowded cities there be- 
low ; and this visit gives me courage to go 
on with my work among the heart-sick, 
poverty-stricken, man-driven masses down 
there. What a work your father is doing 
here, teaching their hands the dignity of 
labor, and their hearts the abhorrence of sin ; 
and you, my daughter, have your work to do 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


259 


— are doing it nobly and well. They are 
fine lads and have not spoiled my lassie.’' 

It was not long before they were joined 
by half a dozen boys, whose strong hands 
and willing fingers carried on the work of 
twining the flowers and green into a chancel 
rail to completion before the breakfast horn 
called them back to camp. 

Then the sun broke out through and 
above the mist, scattering it into a myriad 
sun-clouds and shapes, when at last 

“ Squirrel and song sparrow 
High on their perch, 

Hear the sweet lilj^-bell 
Kinging to church! 

The little procession of surpliced forms that 
filed slowly through the woods, sounding 
the joyful tones of that glorious anthem, 

“ Hark, hark my soul! 

Angelic voices ringing! 

waked the echoes of a sublime pantheism. 


260 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


It was late that night when Mrs. Prince, 
in her room at the hotel overlooking the 
lake, wrote to a friend: — 

My Dear : The lake has given me a new pic- 
ture. You know, sometimes between the dark 
and the daylight of a winter’s day, I have tried 
to set them free for you, these pictures I have 
imprisoned in my memory of happy, bright, 
colorful summer days. I believed my mind, like 
Lewis’s kodak, had all the pictures it would 
hold ; that the lake, at least, had no new ones to 
give me. 

I have made you see in my grate-fire those 
many-peaked hills with the thousand cloud-shapes 
of sunrise and sunset. I have shown you the 
low dells where the hundred forms of fern and 
bracken nestle, and the autumn glory of russets 
and reds on hillside and hillock. You have 
peopled the island with many boys, sunbrowned 
and natty, tempest-tossed and naughty. You 
have had Nan at play and at work, in rose light, 
blue light, and the glorious carmine of autumn. 
But, my dear, let them all go, and hold for me 
the loveliest picture of them all. 

Imagine, by the interlacing boughs of oaks and 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 261 

maples Nature had formed a chapel which Giotto 
nor Michael Angelo might not copy, Imagine 
assembled in this chapel a band of singing boys, 
and a majestic, grand old man in robes of the 
Ascension. Imagine, dear, in their midst, St. 
Cecilia, of Raffael, not Dolce. 

That, my dear, was the picture I caught, 
as coming through the trees a little late for 
the opening service, I made my way to the 
chapel. 

Nan, clothed in her surplice, stood before the 
rustic altar, her chin raised and eyes upward as 
in the great Cecilia, playing that beautiful hymn 
from Stradella. The boys, lost in admiration for 
their friend and exalted by the occasion, were 
transfigured from human beings prone to mis- 
chief to angels. Oh that we had a Correggio to 
hold them fast on canvas. My Lewis looked a 
knight of the Holy Grail, Wolcott and Harry, 
cherubs of the San Sisto. 

Nan played her hymn and St. Cecilia was sub- 
merged in the choir. The good Bishop preached 
as it seems he never can anywhere else. The 
boys were no longer animals. Each one was face 
to face with his own soul, and felt the touch of 
the spiritual world around him, and it seemed to 


262 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


me as they rose to sing the anthem, their voices 
had a tone never heard before. 

With the recessional the boys filed once more 
through the woods to meet Marian and her father, 
and Mr. Morton and Harold as his best man 
waited at the altar, as the boys took up once 
more a joyful song. How it rang through the 
trees ! 

Then I realized how good had been Marian's 
choice! Was ever a marriage more simple or 
more beautiful ? When at last Count Lodoff witli 
his master hand, led Nan’s violin with his own 
in the wedding march, I rejoiced that my boys 
had seen and felt the beauty of this marriage 
service, unspoiled by the glitter of wealth or 
display. 

A few friends and neighbors greeted the bride 
in the pavilion, and there a wedding breakfast was 
served, where the loving cup was something more 
than a hollow ceremony. 

Can you find a more beautiful picture in that 
treasure-house ? 

Yours as ever, 

H. P. 

The boys had indeed fallen under the 
spell of the hour, but they were none the less 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 263 

Creatures not too good 

For human nature’s daily food,” 

when once more in their own province. 

To Marian, the camp seemed never so 
dear as when the boys rallied around Her- 
bert with laugh and cheer. 

It was the close of Herbert’s work among 
them, if indeed it had not already closed 
with his accident ; but to-day he was one 
of them again ; seated in a huge chair lest 
his poor limb become weary, the boys 
clambering around him, he looked less the 
bridegroom than the tutor. 

And when at last the boat came to carry 
them off, the rice and boots rained thick 
and fast. 

The summer was over. For Marian a 
new life was beginning, and for Nan not 
less, for before her lay a life as untried and 
new as Marian’s own, and would this all 
ever be the same again ? Would another 
year bring her back to these dear compan- 


264 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 


ions, the same unspoiled child, girl friend ? 
And the boys themselves ? For a few, the 
path yet lay along the pleasant hedged 
roads of pure childhood ; but for the many, 
new ways lay on to the great battlefield of 
active life, where each must fight his good 
fight. 

Lewis surrounded with wealth, might 
go on through college to the pleasant paths 
of artist life ; but all would not be easy 
for him even there. None knew better 
than Nan what snares lay in Lewis’s 
path. 

Steve, dreaming of good work as a worthy 
churchman, had already joined the Univer- 
sity Settlement, where with Harold he was 
to learn to work for the struggling masses 
he must help to uplift. 

Marshall, looking perhaps beyond the 
victories of his great college football team, 
saw in the vista a cherished goal, where, as 
a practising physician, he might have the 


NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE. 265 

help of a strong, clear-eyed, well-rounded 
woman, who should be his wife. But 

A bo3"’s will is the wind’s will, 

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.” 

And one must have a clear vision to see 
beyond the struggle and disappointments of 
years to the accomplishment of youth’s 
dreams. Much lies between, but this is 
sure, in whatever path their lives may lead, 
each and all of our Chicopee boys will do 
his duty, and Nan will be their help and 
friend. 

For her — dreams are not yet, but there 
is action and usefulness where just now we 
may not follow her. 


THE END. 


JOLLY GOOD TIMES; 



CHILD LIFE ON A FARM. 

By P. THORNE. Price $1.25. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 



















